


Not In The Same Way

by hellkids



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Maybe it's angst but I dont know about that, Mild Smut, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 77,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkids/pseuds/hellkids
Summary: •••"You're staring." Minho had heard Changbin say."I'm not.""You're staring at his ass." Changbin emphasized. "Do you like him?""I like his hands.""You like what?"•••Alternative Universe in which Minho loves his best friend Jisung and he would do anything for him, but is there a limit to anything?
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 111
Kudos: 429
Collections: Life hates Minsung, Minsung





	1. Crying doesn't make you a loser

**Author's Note:**

> Hi people!  
> This is my first fanfiction here. I used to have an account actually, a long time ago, but I lost it somehow. Anyway, hope you enjoy this little thing!

Minho did create his own monster.

That was the only one sure thing he got during the course of his whole life. He didn't know that back then, obviously. He had no idea when he first approached him. Who could have known? Who could have even imagined that? Not Minho, of course. He didn't even want to talk to him that day, he just thought it was the right thing to do. The boy was there, crying in the parking lot, shamelessly and in public as if that wasn't one of the most visible places in the entire campus. He could have chosen a bathroom. Minho wished that guy had used a bathroom for crying his heart out, for letting go of all his insecurities through falling tears filled with existential despair. Toilets were a perfect spot to get over desperation and unsatisfied dreams. They were usually quiet and private. Crying sitting next to the WC was, actually, a pretty weird experience to live, but crying while hugging the WC was better than therapy. And not to mention, the incredible and reassuring presence of toilet paper. Bathrooms usually provided that, toilet paper basically represented the concept of free tissues to wipe off tears. Not to talk about the fresh and continuing stream of water which could have been used to wash the pain away from a face burned by desolation.

In conclusion, bathrooms scored several points and they were certainly the best place in the world to hide and cry, so why was that guy feeling the urge of having a mental breakdown in the middle of a definitely lively space? Minho didn't know that. When he saw the boy suffering like that, he wasn't even thinking clearly. He never had the intention of helping the kid, who was crying lying on the cold hard ground, because he genuinely wanted to relieve his pain. Minho just wanted to come back home after a long and tiring day of hard work and boring lessons in college. But a boy was having a crisis right in front of his car and, since he didn't want to run him over just to get home sooner, Minho thought he had to ask him what was going on before demanding him to leave the spot he had turned into a crying section. It was polite, it was kind, it was the best way to act in front of an obviously devastated stranger. Minho, deep down, just wanted the guy to move, as soon as possible, so he could get in the car. At that time, he didn't think that the guy was about to move into his life. And that's how he met Jisung.

"Are you crying?" Minho had asked during that warm fall day. He had tried to shape his tone as tender and comprehensive as possible. Jisung, on the other hand, as he heard those words from the other boy, stopped staring at the newly retouched asphalt with an hopeless expression and started looking at Minho as if he was going to rob him from all of his money or something.

So, with a suspicious look on his face, Jisung replied: "Nope, not crying here! I'm just trying to build up the branch office of the Pacific Ocean, not a big deal." He said ironically and Minho mentally cursed since he didn't think the guy was going to not collaborate at all. But he tried again with a few more questions, he wanted to know what was he doing there, if he was a student of that college or if he was just a random person who started crying in front of his freaking motor car just to make him go nuts. Lots of questions, zero answers. Jisung had stopped with the self pity agenda since he wasn't crying, no more at least , but he was again staring at his shoes laces in complete silence. As if Minho wasn't there trying to get to know what was wrong with him. Since Jisung didn't want to help him understand the reason of his unease, not even remotely, Minho decided it was time to make it rough and get that straight. Minho snorted out loud, as a warning. He picked the keys of his vehicle from the pocket in his coat and he unlocked the doors. He got on and he turned the motor on. Jisung was still there, he didn't even flinch.

He had to scare him, Minho had to scare him. He turned the front lights on, he started driving, slowly, pressing carefully against the accelerator. Finally the guy seemed to have a grip on the real world which was surrounding him. He stood up faster than he ever did and he faced Minho who was still cautiously going on with his plan. The driver laughed when he noticed the sudden panic in the other one's eyes. Did he really believe Minho was going to kill him? Just like that in broad daylight? He must have been truly naive or truly dumb or both, Minho thought. So he screamed on top of his lungs, he begged him to stop getting closer with his deadly car and let him live. He never wanted to die, that was what he said. He knew he had wished for some crazy stuff to happen to him because he was feeling utterly, extremely, incredibly sad and he knew he had expressed out loud his desire to end all at once his unresolved earthly issues, but he never meant that. Even when he specifically said he wanted to leave this planet, he didn't mean dying! He just thought isolating himself from the world by taking a spaceship to Mars could have been cool. He didn't want to drop earth for heaven, not in a time in which he wasn't even sure he was going to end up in heaven. And he didn't crave hell at all since he suffered from low blood pressure and he was sure he was going to faint a lot in that hot boiler full of sinners. Watching the man screaming was pretty fun for Minho who was quietly enjoying the show from the front sit of his car, but at some point he started finding the guy too whiny in a way in which it wasn't funny anymore.

So he dropped the scene, he turned the keys in the other way around and with nonchalance he got off the car. Jisung went silent. He was standing where he had been since the whole thing had started, staring at Minho, waiting for words to come. Minho did not say anything though. He made a few steps towards Jisung, probably with the intent of getting closer. He walked those few metres which were in the middle between the two of them and when he finally reached his destination, Jisung didn't step back. Instead, he looked at Minho, slightly confused.

They were just awkwardly staring at each other when Jisung broke the silence: "Lights." He said. "They're blinding me." And Minho slapped himself in the face for forgetting to turn them off. So, after that confident act, he rushed to the car in order to get those invasive lights off. Then he reached Jisung again and the guy was trying to hide his laughter.

"Oh, I see you're fine now." Minho complained while the boy was making fun of him without a bit of respect. That was why, Minho, during that late afternoon, decided to follow Jisung's steps and just sit on the street, leaning on his old and faithful car, which had been there for him and his father and his father's father for a long time. That was when Jisung got even more perplexed. He looked around. Maybe Minho was now lying on the ground because he had seen someone or something, he thought. But no one was there, not even a single soul. In that parking lot forgotten by the gods above, there were just Minho and him, and something which was moving in the trashcan not so far from them, but Jisung didn't want to know what was that. Still visibly weirded out by the sudden change of mood of the guy who originally came to rescue him, Jisung sat down again. Right next to Minho.

"Is everything alright?" Jisung tried, with uncertainty coming out of his voice. Minho wasn't looking at him, he had his eyes set on something afar. He seemed petrified. Jisung got closer to Minho's face. Was the man okay? What was that unexpected change? Jisung got so close to the other's face, that Minho could perceive his curious breath, a lot calmer than before, Jisung seemed way more relaxed than previously when Minho had just found him. Then Minho took Jisung out of guard by setting an arm around his neck so the boy could not find any chance to move and by messing up with the other boy's hair.

"What are you doing?" Jisung seemed mad, but he didn't even try to escape from Minho's grip. "Let me go! I don't even know you!"

"I don't even know you and you thought it would have been okay to cry on my car!" Minho replied in order to let the other understand his position.

"Fair point." Jisung agreed and for a brief moment, Minho stopped torturing his hair.

"What were you crying for?" Minho let him go expecting the other to run away just to avoid the question. But he didn't. "It's my fourth week." Jisung whispered so Minho had to lean closer to hear what he was saying. 

"Fourth week?"  
"Of college." Jisung specified taking a deep breath.

"And you were getting desperate about that because...?" Minho still wasn't getting it.

"'Cause I hate even numbers." Jisung disguised his discomfort with sarcasm. Minho frowned at the nonsensical answer. "I have no friends. I'm a loser." Jisung admitted tossing his head behind, leaning towards the grill of the car. Minho spread his eyes wide open. Was that the reason? The boy was crying because he hadn't been able to get people to lunch with? "God, don't look at me like that." Jisung said while covering his face with his hands, trying to hide behind his knees. He looked so flustered and Minho couldn't understand the point of it. It wasn't so strange, not having tons of friends during the first weeks of college. It was actually very ordinary and normal and why was he feeling all that social pressure for?

"I'm not looking at you like that." Minho defended himself.

"You raised your eyebrows." Jisung pointed out.

"And so?"

"You were judging through the mere movement of those!" He stated with confidence.

"No way I was doing that!" Minho felt offended. They weren't in high school, nobody was going to judge him because he had no friends. That was stupid.

"Then why did you move them?"

"Regular physical exercise? Maybe I want my eyebrows to have muscles?"

"If you wanna try muscles, I'd start with that. You seem a little bit flat there." Jisung noticed pointing out at Minho's abdomen.

"I'm wearing a shirt, how could you say so?"

"I have a gift, I see through clothes." 

"Oh yeah?" Minho smirked. "I guess you see through pants too."

"I do." Jisung got the joke.

"So... what do you see?" Minho asked playfully.

"I see you're using enhancing underwear." Jisung said dry. "What? I am not!" Minho felt extremely insulted.

"There's no shame in that, dude. Everyone needs some help and socks just don't do the job." Jisung simply explained. There was no way that boy could really see through things. How could he know?

"Obviously I'm not everyone, since Mother Nature gave me a full package for free." Jisung bragged while Minho was still questioning where that guy got that information about his underwear.

"How do you know?" Minho asked almost whispering even if nobody was around. Then Jisung took something from the pocket of his jeans. "It fell off when you freaked out over the car lights." He said as he was showing Minho an eloquent receipt. Minho grabbed the piece of paper and he quickly tore it apart right on the spot, so proofs of his regretful secret could ultimately and definitely disappear from the living universe.

"Don't tell anybody." Minho ordered him, trying to conceal his agitation, miserably failing.  
"Don't worry man, your little secret is safe with me." Jisung assured him. Minho attempted to smile, wiping that annoying sweat drop away from his temple. Danger escaped. Not that he was ashamed, not that he needed those kind of underwear in the first place, but they were way more comfortable than the ordinary ones.

"Thank you, ehm..."

"Jisung." The boy introduced himself. "Han Jisung."

"Well, so, thank you Jisung." Minho told him being heartfelt.

"You're welcome...?"

"Lee Minho." He returned the favour.

"Okay, then you're welcome Minho." Jisung smiled fondly.

"So, you don't have friends?" Minho switched to a more comfortable topic. Jisung shook his head. "Not even one."

Minho put an hand on his shoulder. "You're gonna find somebody. I used to wander around all by myself, at first."

"What happened then?" Jisung was looking forward the next sentence as if those words were going to reveal the truth untold about the origins of the old, overused and stinky fried oil McDonald's had been using since the forties.

"I found some friends." Minho said solemnly as if that was going to solve all Jisung's problems about basic human interactions. After his required, but not satisfying at all, speech, Minho stood up, patted Jisung's on the top of his head, he gave him a sincere smile and he decided it was enough helping people in need for the day. He expected the boy Jisung to follow his example and finally get away from there in order to let him drive away from the parking lot, since the sun was about to be swallowed by the modern buildings which everyone could see from the point they were. But he didn't. He got up, yes, but he didn't move. Minho gave Jisung a bewildered look.

"Jisung, I gotta go home. Please, move." Minho implored him.

"I'm gonna tell everyone!"

"What?"

"I'm gonna tell everyone in this campus about your little trick down there!" Jisung declared pointing at the subject of the discussion. Minho's jaw fell off.

"Don't you dare!" He was about to throw hands. That Jisung guy wanted to get killed or something.

"I'm gonna tell everyone! Unless..." Jisung began taking a few steps back since Minho was walking to him with a furious expression painting his features.

"Unless what?" He asked frustrated.

"Be my friend." Jisung said, more serious than he had ever been. Minho froze for a second. He couldn't be doing this for real, or could he? But Jisung eyes seemed honest, his request authentic. That tiny guy was basically blackmailing him, but Minho couldn't believe he was being mean, nor even couldn't think he wasn't being sincere. He looked too helpless, vulnerable, his eyes filled with anticipation. Jisung didn't want to ruin that stranger's reputation, he just wanted him to say yes. And Minho didn't want to disappoint those gleaming and shining eyes which were basically begging for him to accept the offer. Jisung desperately needed a friend. That was the first yes Minho allowed to Jisung. And the one which followed was the first bright smile on Jisung's face caused by Minho. That's how their friendship started.

Enhancing underwear was all it took.

Then, Jisung slided into Minho's life in the most natural way possible. The day after, the younger boy found his place right beside Minho's in the canteen at lunch. Jisung didn't ask for a permission and Minho didn't question it. They just started talking about their respective college mornings as if they had always been friends. When Minho's other friends got to know there was some sort of intruder sitting at their usual table that day, they all exchanged confused looks, but since Minho was chatting so nicely with the new guy, they said nothing. They introduced themselves, giving the boy a warm welcome. Jisung appreciated that. Minho noticed he seemed a little embarrassed, maybe because of the new attentions, but it didn't seem like he was going to reject those and switch to a less crowded place.

"I thought you were over rescuing stray cats." His friend Changbin said as soon as Jisung had to leave because of classes. Minho rolled his eyes.

Jisung wasn't a stray cat. He was just... just Jisung. And he became just Jisung for his friends too, and Minho's friends became Jisung's friends and somehow, Jisung even managed to get some friends on his own, eventually, after a whole semester. Minho did remember when Jisung brought these new kids at their lunch table during a definitely strangely rainy spring day. "I made friends!" He had texted Minho a few hours before that moment. "I finally made friends!" And Minho could not help, but feel a sense of selfless joy growing inside, warming up his chest. When Jisung brought them these new freshmen, Seungmin and Felix, their friend Chan almost scared those two by asking them to come over his apartment. Obviously, the controversy was generated by a poor choice of words and by a way too friendly way to act. But Chan was like that: a transferred student, alone in the city, with an apartment too spacious for one human being and no roommates.

That was why he never missed the chance to bring some company in. That was great, 'cause Minho's house was too small to let more than one person join him and Changbin's home was... majestic, but he never let them stay over. He used to do that once, but since the barbeque incident, things had changed. And Minho didn't blame him. They set a bunch of his bushes on fire by accident. That made sense. "My gardener doesn't feel safe when you're around guys." Changbin had told them once, also telling that was temporary and one day, they would have been able to see his crystal chandeliers again. That was why they were always hanging out at Chan's after classes. And now, the newbies were going to hang out at Chan's too.

The more Minho got to know Jisung, the more he appreciated him. The one thing he liked about their friendship was how easy it was. There were never barriers between them. Minho didn't feel like an asthmatic guy climbing up the Everest. Staying with Jisung felt like sightseeing the most beautiful natural landscapes in the whole world from a fluctuating boat. They just talked and talked, about all and nothing. And the more they talked, the more things became thoughtless, intimate, authentic. They felt like best friends, no, they were best friends. They went out eating together, they went to movies together, they got kicked out of movies together, because all they did was complaining out loud about how stupid and predictable the scripts were. They even faced crisis together. When Minho had his wisdom tooth removed and all he could eat was ice cream, but stores were closed, Jisung tried to make homemade ice cream. Too bad he took things too literal at the point he came to a sore and hungry Minho with some ice cubes topped with a whipped cream rose.

"The recipe was too hard to follow." He had justified himself with a mortified look on his face. Minho did appreciate the gesture, though. That was why he took an ice cube for himself in one bite, a cold, definitely too cold bite, and that was why they had to call the ambulance. Minho catched a digestive congestion. Jisung held his hand all the way to the hospital. Almost passing away hadn't been that bad, Minho had found himself thinking.

Then there was this one night though, in which Jisung couldn't sleep. Minho remembered that, because at three a.m. his phone started ringing and he really thought it was the alarm and he tried to stop it, until he found out it wasn't. So, after a failed attempt to shut the noise down by throwing the phone away, he had actually picked up. Jisung couldn't sleep, that's what he said. His mind didn't have the intention to switch off that night and the boy was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping to get some rest. But his brain couldn't do the magic trick.

"Why did you call me?" Minho had asked, in a sleepy voice, pinching his own arm, just to make sure he wasn't having a vivid dream. "It's so late."

"I tried to make some tea, you know, I thought it was gonna help me with my sleep." Jisung had told him through the speaker.

"But?" Minho said, 'cause there were always buts with Jisung.

"I realized I don't like tea." And Minho had to sink his face deep into his pillow to hide the disbelief which was showing through his expression, even if Jisung couldn't actually see that.

"Why can't you get some sleep?" Minho said after a long judgemental silence.

"My parents left for the weekend." Jisung told him.

"I've never been alone in my house this long before."

"Do you wanna stay up all night at the phone?" Minho had suggested, more awake than a few minutes ago.

"Yeah..." Jisung had agreed, but he didn't seem quite sure. "Okay." Minho replied expecting words coming from the other side of the phone.

"Minho." Jisung called him.

"That's my name." He said, feeling a bittersweet sensation thinking about the eye bags which were going to make their appearance on his almost impeccable skin the morning after.

"You live by yourself, right?"  
Oh, Minho knew what was going next. "I do. Why are you asking?"

"Just for this weekend. I'm gonna help you clean up, I can cook, I can even do the laundry, I could..."

"Yes."

"What?"

"Come over here and please, hurry up 'cause I need to sleep."

And that was the second yes Minho could remind of. Probably, the most dangerous one. The affirmative answer which changed their relationship, forever.

Or at least, the apparently innocent yes which had forced Minho to reconsider every single moment spent with Jisung. It hadn't looked like a bad idea, in that moment. Nothing seems a bad idea at three in the morning. Inviting Jisung, his dear friend, to stay over, at his own apartment, didn't seem a dramatic mistake. So Jisung arrived, sooner than expected, and he made himself at home. It wasn't the first time he was at Minho's, but surely it was the first time he was sleeping over. It felt okay at first, normal. They were just friends, they even laughed about it. Minho even joked hoping Jisung had switched off the gas meter before leaving his house, 'cause he had no intention to let the younger live at his apartment if something was going to blow up. They had stayed up talking, since none of them had classes in the morning.

Minho lent Jisung one of his shirts, 'cause the boy had brought his sweatpants only and next they were going to sleep. One bed, big enough for both of them. They were friends, it wasn't a big deal. They wished each other goodnight, even if a brief ray of sun was filtering through the window, and that was it. They were finally going to sleep. If it hadn't been for the unbearable electric drill which had, obviously, substituted Minho's cardiac muscle. He felt claustrophobic under his own bedsheets. He didn't even want to move, he couldn't. He felt almost afraid. Frozen. Jisung was peacefully sleeping, but he did know nothing about personal space. He had taken over the entire mattress, not giving a single heck about Minho. He couldn't sleep like that, confined on the edge of his own bed. He had to wake Jisung up, asking him to move a bit. Minho knew he could make it. He could have pulled this off. "Jisung." He tried, whispering carefully. Nothing. Jisung even started snoring.

"Jisung." He tried again, louder this time, but it didn't work, so Minho just dropped it. Just a couple of nights. He had to resist at Jisung's territorial tendencies, just a couple of nights. It felt weird though, at some point. How close Jisung's body was. How their hands were lightly touching each other.

Minho could feel his best friend's pinky under the covers. Minho never thought about Jisung's hands. He never had the chance to do so. Yeah, he remembered that time during the run for the hospital, but he was going through some kind of troubling pain, so. Jisung's hands. How did they feel? He didn't remember that. He could remember his strong grip, but he could not remember anything apart from that. Were they soft? And gentle? Did they feel coarse and rough? He tried to concentrate in order to get some memories back, but he couldn't do that. And he didn't even know why he was struggling over his friend's hands at six in the morning. He was out of his mind. The sleep deprivation was getting in its way. It must have been that. Sleep deprivation. He just needed to sleep. To sleep meant forgetting about Jisung's finger brushing against his. He closed his eyes. Everything was black, silent, numb. He was about to get into Morpheus broad arms. He felt it. He was tired, exhausted from how hard he had studied that day. He was getting there. "Sleep." He murmured at himself. "Just sleep."

But his upper limb betrayed him. Betrayed him and his brain by proceeding with insubordination. So he just did. His hand reached Jisung's one under the sheets. With a fast, slight and imperceptible single movement. He was holding his best friend's hand while they were both sleeping in his bed. At his apartment. Well, one of them was sleeping. Minho was internally overreacting over bare minimum human contact.

What was he doing? Grabbing Jisung's hand like that? He felt so stupid. His heart was beating so fast, it was basically taking a walk all around the room after breaking out of his ribcage.

Big. Jisung's hand was big. Obviously bigger than his. That was odd. Such a small body with such huge hands, yet it felt great. Minho liked the contrast between his hand and the other's one. It felt natural, genuine, like their hands were made for staying together. About to vomit his heart out, Minho intertwined his fingers to Jisung's ones. A little sparkle seemed to light up his soul. It felt right.

Minho wanted to spend the rest of his life holding Jisung's hand and never let go.

Oh God.

He felt like an idiot.

No.  
He wasn't feeling stupid.

He was stupid.

He had to let go. What was he even doing?

"What?" Jisung was stuttering in his sleep as he perceived Minho abruptly taking his hand away. Minho didn't reply, he closed his eyes and he pretended to sleep. And, afterwards, he found out sleeping wasn't the only thing he was pretending to.  
It became harsh, after that sole and apparently eventless night. He hadn't been able to look at Jisung in the face, for like three hours after they had woken up. He brushed it off, he tried to speak to him like he had always done, but his blood pressure having a party inside his veins and his heart bouncing inside his chest, reminding him of how much of a loser he had been, getting into all of that agitation, for what? Hand holding his best friend? He was way out of his mind. But he got through it, that was nothing. Even if he still hadn't found out the reason why that had happened, he felt like it wasn't a big deal. He could still hang around with Jisung without the need to puke his cardiovascular system out. That was fine.

That's what he had told himself. And it was kind of true. He was feeling fine hanging out with his best friend. No strong sensations like that night ever showed up again. So, Minho convinced himself that everything was going alright. No need to take a look at the reasons of his weird feelings during that night because it wasn't something which was going to affect his life nor his sincere friendship with Jisung. It was alright. No matter how he was starting to notice aspects of his friend he had never seen before. No matter how he started finding his presence reassuring, comforting, necessary. No matter how Jisung was the only one he looked for in a crowd. The fact that he was always sitting next to Jisung at lunch, at movies, during car rides, anywhere, didn't mean anything. He just loved the guy, in a totally platonic way. That was it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"You're staring." Minho had heard Changbin say.  
Well, that was another detail he had started noticing about his dear friend Jisung. But he didn't think it was worth mentioning. Or maybe it was, it did depend on the prospective.

"I'm not." Minho had said, looking away from the younger who was standing in front of the bar counter, that Saturday night, to get drinks for his friends. Minho and Changbin in that particular case. Seungmin was apparently studying for a life changing exam, Felix was having his shift at the supermarket he worked for, in order to get a life changing Nintendo Switch and Chan... He had mentioned something like an hydraulic issue at his apartment, but nobody had really paid attention to that. Those three were the only ones left for a pure night of fun.

"You're staring at his ass." Changbin emphasized.

Guilty. He was staring. Just because Jisung had worn those leather pants he had never put on before. He wasn't doing it on purpose, they were those kind of pants which naturally highlighted that particular body trait. Hence, Minho's eyes had spontaneously, and he stressed on the spontaneously, slipped a little bit on a southern area. A normal response. No double meanings.

"Do you like him?" The evil hobgoblin dared to ask Minho, wearing a definitely disgusting and naughty grin.

"I like his hands." Minho had replied, by instinct and oh, man, what was he even saying.

"You like what?" Changbin almost burst into laughter and Minho was glad his elf friend wasn't sipping anything, 'cause the last thing he needed in that risky moment was a spit shower. Nevertheless, he had completely failed his attempt to be cool about his friend's accusations. Jisung's hands. Why were his hands even in the picture? What was he thinking. His brain wasn't clearly working right. It was too hot in that bar. Too many people. People's breathing increased the heat. Lack of oxygen for his brain. Yeah, lack of oxygen, that was the answer. 

"You have no idea whom I ran into!" Jisung was back, with his tight pants, saving Minho from giving Changbin embarrassing elucidations on his last statement.

"Hands fetishists?" Changbin made a guess, and Minho had to think twice before listening to his right mind and drop the idea of pouring his drink on him.

"Oddly specific, but no." Jisung replied while Minho gave Changbin the deadliest look and a promise of murder coming within. "Jeongin! A friend from high school! I mean we met in high school and he is still in high school, but I'm not, obviously."

"Yeah, obviously." Minho played along waiting for Jisung to point at the kid.

"There he is!" The so called Jeongin was sitting a few spots away from them, all by himself.

"Is he... alone?" Changbin asked.

"He said he is waiting for someone, like a date, so I just left him and... God! This can't be happening!" Jisung's jaw fell off.

Minho and Changbin turned around trying to understand why Jisung was thrown in that state of disbelief just by looking at the bar's front doors. A tall guy was entering the place, heading to Jeongin's table. "What? I still don't understand." Minho tried to get some more detailed explanations.

"He's Hwang Hyunjin! The first year star! Don't you know him?" Jisung seemed shocked at Minho's lack of awareness. "I'm afraid I don't." He said, not getting all the hype.

"Jisung, we're second years, you cannot expect us to know every single freshmen, that's... Oh wait, I know the guy." Changbin corrected himself after a more attentive look.

"See? Like, everyone loves him and girls are all dying for him! But if that's a date! He could be gay! I mean, not that I care, but more chances with the ladies for me... I guess?"

"He's bi, though." Changbin stated and both of them turned around to look at him, wondering where he got the information from.

"How the hell...?" Jisung was genuinely confused.

"I slept with him, for the record."

"When?" Minho questioned curious.

"Like... a month ago? I don't know, it was a frat party, that night you guys dumped me to go watch that movie I dislike, the horror one? That was it." Changbin remembered. "It was just for fun, no big deal."

"Nice. He likes boys... and girls! I guess I'll stay a virgin forever." Jisung sighed desolate.

"Your time will come, Jisung." Minho gave him a encouraging smile.

"Yep Jisung, don't worry about that, you still have your hands." Changbin grinned and Minho thought that disrespectful hobbit was probably craving a slow and painful death.

What had he done.

What had that sick poor wretch done.

That was when his dreams had started.

The lewd ones.

The first one was horribly terrifying. That was so vivid, it seemed real. Minho could swear to God he was living a real thing. It was simple, there weren't giant pink elephants, nor super realistic Animal Crossing's characters holding a gun, knocking at his door asking for rent money. There were just the two of them. Laying on the old secondhand couch in Minho's apartment, talking about this and that, fighting over what to watch on TV, the usual. But the atmosphere had changed when, instead of grabbing the remote from Minho's hands, Jisung had accidentally grabbed something which wasn't, by any chance, the remote controller. Then things escalated quickly and in a matter of seconds, after he woke up from that disgraceful dream, Minho had found himself facing the most awkward, miserable, deplorable, regrettable hard on ever experienced. It wasn't even going away. He had tried, so many methods to cool it off, but nothing, nothing was working. He had to deal with that, the old fashioned way. And the only thing which had helped make it go away faster was thinking about him. His best friend. Jisung. Just the thought of Jisung's hands on him made him reach an euphoric state of mind never even imagined before. He fantasised a lot. About how would that feel like, how would he look like during such an intimate moment. How could he be during those kind of encounters? Was he a quiet type? Or maybe loud, Minho thought Jisung could have been a loud one. Minho was sure he was one of those who had to be forced to silence with a long, deep, and passionate kiss so people could not hear sinful noises leaving his mouth during his edge, through the thin walls. Minho could still remember the pleasure he gave himself that morning. Best self hand job of his life. The first, and definitely not the last one. 'Cause the dreams kept going and Minho didn't do a thing to make them stop.

Therefore, it was pretty clear that he couldn't hide those rising feelings anymore. It would have meant lying to himself, and Minho was a lot of things, but not a liar when it came to these stuff. It was true, he liked Jisung's hands, but that was because he liked the owner too. However, his best friend was straight. An heterosexual male who couldn't care any less about men's attentions. That was good for Minho, because thinking of Jisung as straight helped him not picturing the younger with himself. The line was there, a silent, but strong boundary which couldn't be broken. Minho respected that. Liking Jisung was mostly a phase. Lots of people fall for their straight best friends. These things happen, he was safe.

Until he wasn't anymore.

What is worse than having wet dreams about your heterosexual best friend? People would say: nothing. The sensation of panic and the destabilizing realization a friendship would be ruined, if that ever happened to get exposed, are so utterly horrifying that nothing seems to be worse. But the devil never rests.

It was an ordinary Thursday night at Jisung's house. His parents weren't there. They were never there during the day. They were always working and that didn't seem to bother Jisung apparently, even if sometimes they came home so late, he had to think about cooking for himself, but since Jisung was many things but also a natural lazy person, he ended up eating the worst combinations of food in history. Minho was his guest that day. The older boy had suggested to have some pizza for dinner, trying to keep Jisung away from the kitchen, but the response was negative: he wanted to take care of the food. He said he had found this magical pasta recipe and he felt like that was the night. The turning point of his journey to adulthood. "Minho, let me try. I know I can do that. Just... trust me." And Minho did trust Jisung, he truly did, but the oven didn't trust Jisung, that's why it stopped working after emitting a loud and annoying continuing noise. The sound of an explosion preceded Minho's entrance into Jisung's house. His friend was there, looking horrified at his now dead oven.

"You brought pizzas, right?" He had whispered, completely devastated without even looking at Minho right beside him.

"As a backup plan." Minho said laughing, with what was going to save their stomachs in his hands.  
Minho remembered that had been a super nice evening. After eating, they had tried to watch movies, but they got bored easily and they decided to sneak out to Jisung's terrace. His parents didn't want him to go up there when they weren't home. They were somehow scared Jisung was going to dramatically fall from the building or something. But they let him water the plants which were a few steps behind the actual terrace, so Jisung got the keys anyway.

Normally, Minho was incredibly afraid of heights, but since he was always careful not to stay close to the border and since the strong and secure railings in iron were there, he started being used to it.  
Minho liked the terrace at Jisung's house. It felt like there was no place that could not be seen from there. It was so high he could even spot the rooftop of Chan's condo, and Felix's supermarket's antenna a few metres ahead. There weren't secrets, nothing could be hidden. Looking at the street lamps' lights in a not so cold spring night, watching those miniatures of people walking home, driving somewhere, seeing without being seen, he had the absolute power of controlling every single thing. A stinging, but pleasant breeze blowing uncertainties away. Minho felt peace. But that was temporary, artificial, unreal. He had to take just a look at his left to lose that long overdue state of calmness. Even when they weren't talking and everything was quiet around them, all it took was one gaze at Jisung only, for panic to take over Minho. He tried dying his feelings for the boy out, he had tried to ignore the irrational desire he nourished for his friend; but he had failed. His feelings had only grown stronger, time after time. They let him be sometimes, locked in a cage inside his body, so he could pretend to live a normal life, as if nothing was expanding inside his chest, insinuating itself even in his lungs, not letting Minho go.

Some other times it felt like hell. That monster called love, even if he didn't even know that was its name, escaped its prison ripping every cord of his heart off. And he couldn't breathe. Like he was drowning even if there was no water. As if the railings were gone and he was standing on the edge, at Jisung's mercy, one single blow away from falling and tragically collapsing. That was why he feared his feelings more than he feared heights. He had the power to choose to stay away from the edge of the cliff, but he was powerless when it came to Jisung.

"Hey." Jisung had broken the comfortable silence between them. "I didn't invite you just for pizza, you know..."

"If I were in your position, I would not bring up the pizza thing again. You still owe me money for the ones we ate last week." Minho interrupted him.

"No, this is not about pizza."

"Better not be about kebab either 'cause you never paid for yours." Minho reminded him. 

"You remember everything, are you a bank?" Jisung jokingly asked.

"Yes, and if all my clients are like you, I guess I'm shutting down." Minho lightly pushed him.

"I have other banks." Jisung murmured.  
"You do?"

"I have Chan."

"We all have Chan." Minho corrected him. 

"No, Changbin doesn't."

"Just because he used Chan's money to buy a cow. He thought it was an investment. With a cow you're free from buying industrial milk at the shop." Jisung quoted their friend.

"And that's on fighting capitalism." Minho stated with sarcasm.

"Do you remember that guy?" Jisung abruptly asked.

"Karl Marx? Kind of." He laughed.

"No, not him. That guy from my class." Jisung came up with a new topic and he seemed strangely serious about it.

"The one you had to do the project with?" Minho asked cautiously. 

"Yeah, and do you remember when I told you I felt like he was way too nice to me?" It seemed like Jisung was preparing his friend for something and Minho felt very much confused for dealing with all those questions.

"You thought he wanted to murder you."

"'Cause only psychotic serial killers are that nice to strangers." Jisung confirmed his own point of view.

"So? Did he kill you and I'm having a conversation with your ghost?"

"We kissed."

Minho was glad he wasn't eating anymore 'cause dying because of food choking wasn't his ideal type of death. "You what?"

"The project was over, our presentation went fine, I walked him to his bike, he said something like: see you in class! And I was about to say: see you too! But he kissed me, it was a little bit unexpected." Jisung explained, trying to hide his unnecessary nervousness.

"And you kissed him back?" Minho's voice came out too worried for his own liking.

"Not at first! I was more like... confused? But then he said sorry to me and he seemed so genuinely mortified and I didn't actually dislike him kissing me, so, at that point, I kissed him back."

It must have been a nightmare.

"When did this happen?"

"A few weeks ago."

Minho didn't reply. His head was empty, the only thing left was total bewilderment.

"Are you... I mean..." He wasn't even able to say it.

"Are you like... dating him? Or something?" He swallowed out of agitation, waiting for Jisung to talk.

"Oh no." Jisung immediately replied. "Absolutely, I'm not."

Oh thank God.

"Okay, so?" Minho said, still wary. "You wanna say you like boys too?"

"I think I like people." Jisung affirmed firmly.

"You like people?"

"Yeah, I mean, I like people. If people happen to be boys, then we can say I like people who are boys too."  
That was it. That was the end. The day Minho didn't think it was coming. Han Jisung, his best friend, wasn't heterosexual. It was a tragedy, the greatest tragedy and an unfair menace for Minho's mental balance. He could have liked him. Jisung could have liked Minho. In a not friendly way. It was a possibility, there were chances. He wasn't straight, there were no such limits, the only one left was the label which spelled friend Minho was wearing like a fashionable pin on his face.

"Please say something." Jisung was begging him, maybe taking his silence as a bad sign. No, he had to stop. It wasn't about him, it was about Jisung. His best friend was coming out to him. His unrequited feelings had to wait.

"Too bad I'm homophobic." Minho played around. "I guess we can't be friends anymore."  
Jisung's eyes started looking teary.

"Jisung, I'm joking. I'm gay, don't you remember that? I could never..." And Minho was soon interrupted by his friend, hugging him tightly, he was sure he would have fallen on the floor if they weren't already sitting on it.

Jisung was crying now, noisily crying. He had buried his face into Minho's neck which was basically experiencing a massive flood, the Nile river could never compete with.

"Thank you." Jisung had found the strength to whisper through the whole sobbing session. Minho silently nodded and he just hugged his young friend tighter. He didn't know why Jisung was so shaken about it. Coming out wasn't easy, of course, it never is, but considering his reaction it seemed like the boy felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his tiny shoulders. Basically most of Jisung and Minho's friends were playing for different teams not that related to the heterosexual one, so why was he feeling that way? They surely weren't going to judge him, maybe someone else from his family? Minho didn't know and Minho didn't ask. He was just glad Jisung had found the courage to open up about it and he was somehow proud Jisung put this trust on him.

After that night, Jisung, at his own pace, with Minho cheering and rooting for him, came out to their other friends too. They showed very much support for him, as expected. Chan even cried, at some point, during Jisung's speech. He said it was because he was cutting onions right before meeting up with the guys, but it couldn't be: Chan was allergic to onions. Jisung just laughed it away, giving his oldest friend a sincere hug. "That damn onions' enzyme, man! It gets me everytime!" He had said blowing his nose using Jisung's shirt in the process.

"You knew about this?" Changbin had asked Minho when the day was over and they were all splitting up in order to come back to their respective homes.

"About what?" Minho replied while reaching his car parked next to Changbin's motorbike, a few blocks away from Chan's apartment.

"About Jisung being pansexual. Before he told us." He clarified playing with his keys.

"He told me, like a month ago." Minho gave him his answer. Changbin raised his eyebrow, looking at him suspiciously. "What?" Minho said since he didn't enjoy the silence and that distrustful glance at all.

"You're thinking about it." Changbin stated.

"You're wrong." But Minho couldn't hide that soft smile which had made its appearance on his face at the simple idea of standing a real chance with Jisung.

"You lied to me!" Changbin dramatically screamed in the middle of nowhere. "You said you didn't like him!"

"And you say you don't like Felix, but somehow you manage to buy stuff at the store he works for even if it's thousands of miles away from your house!" Minho defended himself.

Changbin felt indignant.

"I don't like Felix. At all." He replied offended.

"You kissed him! I was there!"

"It was spin the bottle Minho! I even kissed you while we were playing spin the bottle!" Changbin tried to explain.

"And you don't regret that." Minho winked playfully.

"Never said I do." Changbin laughed.

"Anyway, you didn't kiss me like you kissed him." Minho highlighted.

"Are you jealous or what?"

"Nope, I don't wanna feel your tongue touring down my throat. Damn, poor Felix now that I think about it." Minho told Changbin when they were finally near their vehicles.

"I didn't tour Felix's throat."

"As far as I saw, you even gave him an encore."

"God, Minho, you can be so hateful sometimes." Changbin didn't know how to stand up for himself anymore.

"Maybe." Minho was happy about the victory.  
"Then, goodnight I guess." Changbin said hopping on his motorbike.  
"Goodnight Bin." Minho affably said back.

"Don't think about Jisung too much or you'll get a boner!" Changbin said and then he rode away without giving Minho the opportunity to reply.

He did not think about Jisung that night. No, he was cool with it. They were friends and friends only.

Then, something changed again. Minho didn't know when it all started. He was a playful person himself, he liked to joke around with his friends, he had those moments with Changbin, Chan, even with Felix and Seungmin. He joked with Jisung too. About small things like making fun of Jisung's squirrel appearance, making jokes on his childish behaviour sometimes, and Jisung used to make fun of Minho too. And that was harmless, no ulterior motives had been detected. Just friends coming up with jokes. It wasn't that serious, nor that deep. But at some point, Minho could easily discern the way he was joking with the other guys and the way he and Jisung had started to joke with one another. At some point, it wasn't innocent anymore.

Minho did remember the day those friendship boundaries had started to get all blurred. Jisung had skipped one of his classes, Minho had a free period so they had decided to spend some time together, all by themselves, sitting on a bench in the middle of the campus. Minho was normally sitting, while Jisung had decided to lay down on the bench, placing his head on Minho's lap. It was nice, it felt familiar, it was pretty cozy. They weren't even talking. Minho was too focused reading a book for his next class and Jisung had all of his attention on a YouTube video about jaguars. It was just the two of them and the comfortable silence, the mere presence of each other made them feel better. They didn't need to have a conversation to enjoy it. Being together was enough.

"Minho." Jisung had called for him, still not looking away from his phone screen though.  
Minho hummed in response.

"What do you think about me going blue?" Jisung asked for an opinion.

"Dying your hair blue? Your head?" Minho asked with a neutral tone.

"No, my pubic hair. Of course I mean my hair!" Jisung said annoyed by the lack of interest shown by his friend.

"Which kind of blue?" He asked again, turning the pages of the book he was reading, bored.

"Electric blue." Jisung stated confident.

"Electric blue? I like that colour, for clothes, you know. It looks good on me." Minho reflected on that.

"C'mon! We're talking about me here!" Jisung protested for not being Minho's center of attention.

"Don't worry, Jisung. With your blue hair, you'd look good on me too." And Minho could swear to the gods above he didn't mean anything, anything which could have been misinterpreted. He wasn't even thinking about it. He had just spoke the first thing his mind had come up with. Only a few minutes later, after Jisung's weird silence, Minho reconsidered hiw own sentence. 

Embarrassing.

Disgracefully embarrassing.

Jisung was still silent, lying under his watch, probably trying to make some sense out of Minho's risky words. That was awkward, he didn't want Jisung to take it differently from how Minho had it thought. He didn't mean to be allusive or anything. He had to clear that situation and his name in front of his friend. He didn't intend to say anything inappropriate. He had to speak.

"Jisung, I..."

But Minho was interrupted by Jisung's unexpected response. He stood up, he sat properly on the bench and then he smiled smugly. "Yeah, maybe I'd look good on you too." He said satisfied. Then he announced his following class was starting saying he could not skip that, for any reason. He waved at Minho and then he left, leaving him speechless, sitting alone on that bench looking like an idiot. Was Jisung flirting with him? Or was he reading into it too much? 

There's no way Jisung was intentionally making moves on him. He was kidding, obviously, like he had always done. Even the strangely pleased expression wasn't actually that meaningful. Minho touched the top of his head. The sun which he was being exposed to was definitely burning his nervous system causing him neurological damage. So Minho ignored the whole issue, acting as if Jisung hadn't spelled those words he spelled, until he did it again.

Another day, another flirty action. In a matter of weeks, those two had collected so many ambiguous interactions that the group was starting questioning the real nature of their relationship. Lingering glances, the whole reciprocal and friendly groping and the many times Jisung had reached Minho to fake kiss him, putting a whole hand between their mouths, just for the sake of the fun. Jisung was more affectionate, cheesy, bolder, than he ever was. Minho and him used to spend definitely a considerable amount of time together, but now the only moments in which they didn't hang out were at night, when they were both sleeping far away from each other in their houses. For Minho, it felt like discovering Jisung all over again. He wasn't the smart guy with the complex personality, hiding himself behind a cute and apparently dumb appearance he used to know. He was still smart, he still had that complex personality of his, but Minho could surely say, the boy wasn't shy anymore. He had changed, he seemed more mature, like he was now embracing his real self. Jisung officially put himself on the market. It was never that serious though. A few dates and then nothing. "We don't match. That's it." Jisung usually gave that explanation to his friends every time they asked about it. It wasn't like he was searching for someone, he was just out there living his youth at its fullest. And that included superficial dates and long nights with the company of his friends, and Minho. Minho who was completely enchanted by Jisung. Even if he didn't want to. Even if he never intended to.

He felt confused, that was it.

A little flirt never killed a man, he reminded himself when it felt like it was too much. He felt nice, during the daylight, it wasn't that serious. His best friend had just the habit of showing too much affection and Minho was okay with that. His breath didn't tremble every time he was too close, he didn't question the resistance of his own heart when Jisung hugged him, his legs didn't shake when Jisung's playfully squeezed his butt. At daylight, that was regular, normal, just brotherly love between guys. At night, though, at night, it wasn't. At night everything seemed so much more important from Minho's prospective. As if his heartbeat was being amplified through a huge stereo system and the invasive sound of it was destroying his ears as if his heart was putting up an heavy metal concert. His heartbeat was incessant, pounding, hammering, stressing, impossible to ignore. At daylight it was all fun and games, but at night it was suffocating. He would have been lying, if he hadn't admitted to himself the realness of his true feelings. How much he desired for Jisung to finally realized he had different sympathies for Minho too, how much he wanted Jisung to know about how Minho found him attractive, how much he craved the arousing idea of his best friend's touch on his body. It was easy not to think about it when the sun was there, reminding Minho he had more serious stuff to catch on than fantasizing about his best friend, he had his life distracting him. Thank God there was a life useful to escape from his unreasonable wishes.

Minho could deal with those sleepless nights. He was willing to deal with anything in order to preserve the precious friendship Jisung and him shared. Minho could endure. At some point, those feelings had to disappear, he just needed time. He didn't want to go for it, he didn't want to chase after him. It couldn't be right. Give yourself a few months, Minho said to himself, it'll fade away, just be patient.  
And a few months went by. The ambiguous jokes habit stayed, but Minho felt like he was getting used to it. He was surely making some improvements, he was even sleeping lately, but never underestimate the unfortunate consequences of bottling up.

Picturing it, Minho was a coke. An effervescent, sparkling, fizzy bottle of coke. Full of a bubbly, vividly and dark liquid. At first, the bottle was fine and so it was the stream in it. The cola was living his ordinary life in its container happily, surrounded by tranquillity, on a pale and consumed shelf, set in the drink area of a regular supermarket. Then the day came, in which that popping bottle of coke had been bought by a costumer, and the costumer accidentally happened to be Jisung. He bought the coke, he brought it home, but the coke, confined in a plastic bag, had experienced the most distressing trip ever, on the back sit of its owner's car. Left to its own device, the bottle found itself being tossed around, until the once shiny liquid had turned into a volcano about to explode at the first chance given. In conclusion: Minho's feelings weren't as stable as he thought they were.

"I have a girlfriend." Jisung had said. When they were all sitting on Chan's large sofa in his living room, talking about college stuff. He had said that as if it was nothing, and maybe it was actually nothing. But Minho's stomach didn't agree since it felt like it was being assaulted by aggressive daggers. They had met during classes, that was why Jisung had told them in that particular moment. She was interested, Jisung found her pretty and they had started seeing each other. Then she grew emotionally involved with him, Jisung had found her fresh, smart and a good company and in a matter of weeks they were officially dating. "I'm not saying I wanna marry her, guys." He said as soon as his friends' questions had become creepier and unexpectedly specific. "She's just my girlfriend."

The bottle of coke had been opened, and the Niagara Falls which came next weren't pretty at all.

That was it.

The end.

"Minho, are you okay?" Jisung had personally checked on him when they were all leaving Chan's apartment. Minho hadn't spoken since Jisung's unexpected revelation and he hadn't been particularly eloquent not even later on. "It's just a headache Ji, don't worry about me." Minho had replied with the most painful fake smile he had to wear during all of his life.

And it was the truth, partially. He was having an headache. That and a nervous breakdown. As soon as he got home all his feelings rushed out of his body, through uncontrollable, desperate, unrestrained tears. Alone, in his room, he felt like knives were cutting him down, destroying his weak chest, tearing his fragile ribcage apart, ripping off his still pulsating heart, then proceeding with pulling it into pieces. He could feel it, how those sharp blades were sinking into his body, releasing that deadly poison called dismay. He cried himself to sleep, in a dreamless night.

All things considered, he was able to recover from that heart removal surgery pretty fast. A miracle, he had thought when he noticed he wasn't hurting anymore. A gift from God, when he finally came out of his room, after a whole week in which he had called sick, refusing to do anything but lying in bed regretting his life choices. Although, he was finally feeling well. He had to understand that was a chance, a chance to finally get over Jisung, the possibility of finally moving on and letting go of all the things he had left unsaid, forgetting about it, he had to stop gravitating around Jisung's orbit and start leaving for himself and himself only. Friends should stay friends. Who was he to break that rule?  
So he started breathing again.

He decided to live his twenties at his best. Partying with his friends, seeing people, dating guys, kissing strangers, dancing at clubs, getting drunk. He didn't want to wait for someone who didn't even included him in the wait list. He couldn't let himself crying forever on the grave of a never started relationship. He wasn't going to honour with flowers and tears something which hadn't even being given birth in the first place.

Jisung was a taken man and Minho a newborn version of himself. They were still great friends, Jisung didn't even suspect the inner emotional turmoil the older had experienced and everything seemed to be fine, for the first time in months. But to seem is the verb which stands for uncertainties and possibilities and nothing is what it seems.

"What about tonight's party? Are you in or not?" Jisung had told Minho the morning of that day.

"Is everyone else coming or...? Hey! You took the whole thing! It's uneven!" Minho had said, distracted by the semblance of food he was splitting up with Jisung before his thief crime.

"Too late!" The boy had laughed with his mouth full of the bologna sandwich he had stolen from Minho's hands without warning. "Anyway, yep, they're all coming."

"Mh." Minho hummed.

"So?"

"Yes Jisung, I'm coming."

And that nth yes Minho told Jisung, did change the entire set of questions.  


______________________

"That guy... he is..."

"A jerk?"

"I was about to say unbearable."

"You're way too polite, Chan."

"You have no idea! He never shows up at apartment blocks meeting, he's always late with paying the rent, not that I care, money's not mine after all, but I'm the one in charge of gathering money for my floor. And the other day? You won't believe this. It was a freaking Sunday morning, people sleep on Sunday's mornings, I sleep during Sunday's mornings. The only spare time I've got for sleeping and guess what was he doing?" Chan asked his friends when they were all standing in the middle of someone else's living room, drinking, while young adults around them were lazily dancing to some loud music which was taking over the room. Minho genuinely thought college parties were boring. He used to think they were thrilling at first, when he was a freshman and half of the student body was composed by strangers. It was a great chance to meet new people and he liked the idea of being part of something: a college student attending a college party. It kind of fit. Then, after getting to know those people, realizing he couldn't stand any of them but his friends made college parties a little bit less fun and a little bit more unlikeable. Greeting mates he disliked with a fake smile wasn't his favourite thing in the world, but he did enjoy attending those events with his friends. That was why he always stick to them until the party was over. And seeing that stupid waste of youth getting drunk and then doing dumb stuff was kind of interesting at the end of the day.

"What was he doing?" Seungmin had asked, curiously, while he was meditating on getting another drink or not.

"Hanging a painting on the wall. With nails, a hammer and all of that stuff. And our walls in there are thin, guys. So thin I wanted to rip my ears off. God, I hate him." Chan seemed angry. "He doesn't know a thing about being a good neighbor."

"When did he move in?"

"About two weeks ago? Can't believe I even explained him how the laundry room works." Chan murmured annoyed.

Minho pat his shoulders, trying to cheer him up: "Patience is a virtue."

Chan gave him a weak smile, but he surely did appreciate.

"Guys, you're never going to guess what I just witnessed." Changbin popped up behind their backs, as if he hadn't been away for like half an hour.

"Where have you been?" Seungmin wanted to know while he was pointing at the watch he was wearing.

"I just needed the bathroom." Changbin said, but nobody was going to believe that liar's words.

"What about that boy?" Chan had raised his eyebrow, suspicious.

"What boy?" Changbin tried to dissimulate, but it was hard since everyone had seen him all over that guy on the couch previously. So they were all looking at him in disappointment, waiting for their friend to tell them the truth, except for Felix, who had set his eyes down on the floor as soon as Changbin had shown up.

"Okay you got me! I was making out with him a few minutes ago, but still! You don't wanna hear about what I've seen?" Changbin tried to convince them. No answers detected. "C'mon! It's about Jisung!" And suddenly they were all listening. 

Jisung.

Jisung was the one who had insisted for Minho to participate at that lame party and at its beginning they were vibing around altogether until Jisung's girlfriend came in the picture. She spent most of the night attached to Jisung's hip, and it was quite normal, since they were boyfriend and girlfriend, but Minho still found it strangely annoying. She wasn't that bad, at all. She was actually nice, she surely wanted to get to know Jisung's friends better, but still, Minho couldn't grow to like her in any way possible. Then, at some point during the whole partying, Jisung and her had left 'cause they needed a few moments alone (her words) and they never came back. So his friends thought it was funny guessing what they might have been doing, all by themselves, maybe in some private room. Minho laughed along with them when they were all nicely joking about it, but he couldn't deny how his stomach was hurting just at the sound of their voices talking about those two being all loving together. He was absolutely over Jisung and he was okay with the idea of not being with him in a romantic way, but he still didn't find appealing the idea of Jisung with someone else. Things had to be taken on step by step. Rush wasn't a good ally.

Anyway Changbin must had noticed Minho's internal conflict, since as soon as they all started laughing about Jisung and his probable incapacity in certain situations, he had gave Minho a quick glance, as if he wanted to make sure he was okay with the whole thing. Considering that Changbin did still think Minho was into Jisung and all that kind of stuff, even if the older had assured him he was not.

"Oh wow, now you're paying attention. I'll pretend I'm not offended even if my ego is actually hurting." Changbin whined about his friends' lack of respect.

"Just say it and stop being a baby." Seungmin cut him off.

"Alright, alright. We all collectively thought Jisung and his lady were doing nasty things somewhere right?"

"And so?" Felix was now participating.

"Basically they're not."

"They're not?" Chan seemed surprised.

"I spotted those two fighting pretty bad downstairs." Changbin told them with a grin on his face.

"What? Why?" Seungmin looked confused.  
Changbin apparently did not know why the happy couple was facing troubles, but he was coming up with very creative assumptions. The second theory even included the girl coming out as an alien. "Have you seen her fingers? They're all the same length. Something seems off." And Minho had all the intentions to keep listening to his friend's delusional hypothesis, until his phone recieved a short message.

_Does crying in a room where people were about to have sex make me a loser?_

"Guys, I gotta go pee." Minho said out loud and he just vanished, not even waiting for his friends' response.

"I told you all that soda was going to get you incontinence issues, but you didn't listen!" Minho heard Chan shouting behind him.

That was a lie. Of course he didn't need the bathroom right now, but Jisung had called and when Jisung called, Minho was always there to pick up the phone. He was crying. That did mean the fight with his girlfriend had to be real. Real and tough. Jisung wasn't a crybaby type, yeah, he was sensitive and all, but crying wasn't natural of him. The arguing must have been rough. So what was it about? Jisung had never complained about his relationship, it seemed easy to handle for him. They had dates, they went out a lot, they were probably intimate since Jisung's cheeks were always painted red when the guys asked him about details on the girl's kissing performances and skills. Minho had never seen them taking a discussion and so Jisung confirmed. Why was Jisung so upset now? It didn't make any sense, they seemed so enthusiast about one another like an hour ago, what changed? Obviously Minho couldn't come up with anything, so he just followed what was written on Jisung's texts. First room, second floor, he had told Minho when the latter had asked where the heck he was hiding. And as soon as he got the information, Minho was running through the whole house, searching for his friends, with the purpose of giving him comfort and undying sustain. And he hated running.

"Jisung!" Minho shouted when he got in the room, opening the unlocked door with an inch of agitation raising up into his body. 

And Jisung was there, crouched on a king size bed, looking even smaller than the usual. He was crunching a giant bag of potato chips, all by himself, not even caring about the crumbs which were now all over the sheets. He didn't flinch when Minho had rushed into the room. He just gave him a quick look, not even bothered, and then all his attention was back on the junk food he was visibly enjoying.

"Jisung, what is going on?" Minho tried again, coming closer to his friend with the lost look on his face.

"Don't sit there." Jisung warned him. "As I said: there were people about to get laid when I entered the room. They tried to kick me out, but they turned out to be the ones running away when I made up they would have taken the syphilis if they had done it on these sheets. Still, a guy was sitting with his bare butt right on that spot, so, I don't know, take a chair or something."

"I don't think syphilis is related to dirty sheets." Minho noticed.

"I know, Minho, but they don't. God, they're like twenty." Jisung complained chewing his chips in frustration. 

So Minho followed Jisung's advice and he actually went for a chair. But since there weren't regular chairs, he found himself dragging an armchair right next to the bed's border where Jisung was sitting. Then he looked at his friend, in the middle of a crisis. 

"You didn't cry." Minho stated after a more attentive glance at the younger one.  
Jisung brushed his shoulders. "I said that 'cause I needed you to come here. As soon as possible."

"So you lied."

"Everyone lies. Lies keep society together! Have you any idea of how many terrifying secrets the government hide from us? Things like... aliens? And they're doing it right! 'Cause I hate E.T. man, it scares the shit out of me. So it's better for me not to know." Jisung gave a totally unconvincing explanation.  
Minho rolled his eyes so intensely he was afraid they were going to get stuck on the back of his skull.

"Jisung, is it about her?"

"What? How do you know?" Jisung seemed surprised.

"Well, you were with her before, now you're not. Deduction helps." Minho made him notice. "And... Changbin saw you two arguing or something." He added to be completely honest.

"We were not arguing." Jisung looked away. "It's just... I don't know, something happened and maybe I overreacted, or maybe not. I don't know." He communicated in a bittersweet tone.

"What's the deal?" Minho insisted. "You know you can talk to me."

"Yeah, I know, but what if it's stupid? Or childish? I mean, I was mad, but maybe it wasn't worth it?"

"Just tell me what happened and we'll see." Minho encouraged his friend to open up.  
"You're biased. You're gonna tell me it's okay, even if it's not."

"I'm truly not." Minho laughed.

"You're right. You're the ugly bastard who told the zoo I had adopted one of their little goats." Jisung gave him an hostile look.

"It wasn't adoption, it was stealing." Minho still couldn't forget how frightened the goat seemed when Jisung brought it home that day. He had even given the poor animal a name: Goat. It was easier to remember, in Jisung's opinion.

"Adoption is legalized stealing."

Minho didn't know how to reply, he just shook his head in annoyance. Jisung was going to talk, at some point.

"We were together, like an hour ago." There he was starting. Minho looked up at Jisung who was torturing his fingers while telling his story. Minho didn't interrupt him. "We were just having fun you know, dancing around, drinking stuff, screaming instead of talking to communicate since the music was too loud, wow I hate it when music is too loud. We're all gonna be deaf by our thirties."

"Jisung, you have your earphones on all the time and I can recognize the songs you're listening to from miles away." Minho admonished the guy.

"You cannot."

"Yeah, sure, biggest Bon Jovi fan."

"It's just one song! One song!" Jisung held himself back from screaming out of frustration.

"It's always the same song."

"That's why it's called Always!"

"It's lame."

"It's majestic!

Minho wasn't so sure about that, but he wasn't going to challenge Jisung any further.

"Anyway." So he continued. "At some point, I felt... I mean, I felt like I was sweating. Like... do you remember that heart attack awareness spot on the tv? The guy who felt so hot he couldn't breathe and he had to untie is tie and then it happened to be a heart attack? I was feeling hot like that! But without the heart attack part."

He was so bad at telling stories the Grimm's brothers were crying somewhere in the after life, Minho thought.

"You were hot..." Minho tried to follow his nonsensical discourse. 

"I was. And she was too."

Oh. So was it about that?

"And we were searching for a private place to do stuff, like making out! I really really really wanted to make out." Jisung put emphasis on every really with heartfelt regret for what it could have been.

"But?"

"But! We're getting there, we spot a secluded place outside, a lonely bench in the garden and then it happens."

"What? What happens?"

"She met a couple of friends. They ran into her. I was annoyed because I couldn't wait to make out, yeah, but I was actually excited about getting to know her friends since she always told me about them, but she never introduced us. They greeted me, she had a small chat with them, I stood there the whole time, smiling like an idiot, and right before we were leaving, one of her friends made the question." Jisung was trying to be a captivating narrator. "And the question was: who is this?"

"What?"

"Yeah, exactly my reaction."

"They had no idea about who you are?"

"She never told them we're dating. And they're best friends." Minho could notice the unease and the disappointment in Jisung's voice.

"What? Why?"

"I asked her, she didn't even have the decency to reply. To justify herself. Worst scenario? I thought she was ashamed of me."

"Jisung..."

"I have my reasons. When she said nothing to save appearances, I dropped her there, but she followed me. I said I didn't want to talk to her until an explanation, but she was persistent. So I stopped my fast walk and I faced her. I asked her why, again. And you know what she said?"  
Minho shook his head.

"I thought it wasn't a big deal." Jisung's voice cracked, as he was visibly hurting. "She doesn't think it's important. Can you believe that? I mean, it's not like we have a son or I wanna propose to her, but, man! Not a big deal? And what am I? A hobby or something? She thinks hanging out with me is the same as découpage?" Jisung had dropped the chips.

There it came, the start of a mental breakdown.

The first tear had been shed. Jisung, completely desolated and vulnerable, started shaking. As his sobbing grew louder, Minho thought he had to do something. His best friend was crying right in front of him, holding to his own hoodie, blowing his nose to his own hoodie, feeling useless and unwanted. He was trembling, prey of his own feelings, facing what it was maybe his first little heartbreak. Minho had never seen him like that. In those tragic conditions. Not for those kind of things, not because of relationships. It somehow reminded Minho the first time he met Jisung. That crying boy, complaining in the parking lot, in front of his car, because he couldn't make any friend. Minho thought the emotions Jisung was going through might have been at least similar to the ones he used to feel back then. Loneliness, disappointment, solitude.

It must hurt, when you love someone, but they don't love you in the same way.

"Jisung." Minho tried to catch his attention. "Jisung stop crying and listen to me, I have something to say, Jisung."

"I cannot believe this!" Jisung was talking again through the constant sobbing. "I'm a hobby! I am a hobby, Minho! And not even a good one. I'm not a hobby such as acting classes, riding a ten thousand box horse or cooking, I don't know!" He was getting hysterical, Minho could sense it.

"I'm not even one of those hobbies people brag about, when you want people to know that you're special and good at things other people are not. I'm a boring hobby, I'm découpage. Or maybe that's too ambitious, maybe I'm not even that! I'm knitting! Yeah, that's what I am, knitting. God, I'm miserable." 

Jisung was about to bury his face in his hoodie again, but Minho decided it was enough self pity for the day.

"Jisung listen to me!" He said grabbing his shoulders so he could look at him in the eyes. Jisung looked at him back, a little bit surprised by Minho's unexpectedly strong grip. Lost puppies had the same exact look on their faces. "You're not knitting okay?"

"I'm not?" Jisung said, sniffling.

"You're not. You're the best hobby in town, you're like surfing... no wait! You're not a hobby Jisung, you're more than that. You're important, you're like a job! Not even a part time one, you're a full time job. Everything turns around you, you're what people live for, you pay off, you're a job Jisung. Not a simple hobby, you're a necessity in life." Minho cheered him up, wondering if that choice of words was going to work. Jisung blinked.

"But... I'm not a bad job right? I'm not that one job which makes people want to kill themselves, I'm a nice job. Like, songwriting. Am I?" His tears had somehow stopped pouring. 

"Yeah, a cool job. The coolest job ever. You make people rich Jisung. Rich and happy." Minho wasn't lying. Maybe it was a too extreme and not so effective metaphor, but he felt that way about Jisung.

"I'm important." Jisung whispered as if he was talking to himself.

"You're important."

"I should talk to her. Letting her know that I'm not some dumb guy, I am a very respectable person and I acknowledge my worth. And she has to understand that." Jisung seemed reanimated.

"Sure, you should do that." Minho gave him a warm smile.

"But not now, 'cause I'm still angry at her. I don't chase anyone. Tomorrow maybe."

"Tomorrow will be fine." Minho took Jisung's hands in his to make him understand he was there, he was worth it, he was valuable. Jisung nodded and Minho was about to ask him if he wanted to go downstairs again, in order to join the other guys, but Jisung anticipated him. 

"Although... I'm sad Minho! I really wanted to make out tonight. Damn pride!" He stated dismayed and dejected. 

"You wanted to make out?"

"I want to make out! But everything's ruined so, I guess that's my destiny." He sighed.

Minho didn't know, what kind of bold heavenly god had possessed him that night. He had no explanation for what he had suggested with so nonchalance it felt like he was inflicting a vile outrage to those passed months spent forgetting Jisung. In the heat of the moment, it felt like he wasn't thinking at all. Maybe that little of alcohol he had drunk was starting circulating into his veins, filling his blood with audacity. He felt brave, as if he did not fear rejection. Maybe it was the alcohol. For real. His head spinning a bit was a sign, or was it excitement?

He opened the drawer beside the bed. He didn't know what was in there, he didn't even know what he was looking for, but that was a bedroom, something must have been there.

"Minho? What are you doing?" Jisung worded disoriented.

Minho found a blind fold. That could have been of use. Somehow, everything seemed clear in his mind.

"Put this on."

"What?" Jisung felt more confused than ever.

"You said you wanted to make out right?"

"And what? I should do that with a blind fold? You could have taken this pillow." Jisung pointed the object near them.

"No, it's not that." Minho laughed, but it wasn't a nervous laugh, he didn't feel nervous. "Put this on and I'll make out with you."  
There was no turning back.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"I wanna be helpful. Think about her, but make out with me. See it as a way to get off your steam."

"Kissing you?"

"But you won't see me."

"We're best friends!"

"It's just a kiss, but it's also your choice."

"We're bros, I mean..." Jisung said shocked.

"I just made you this offer 'cause it seems you need it. We will still be best friends, even after sharing a kiss. It's innocent. We play spin the bottle all the time with the others." Minho proved his point, even if, seeing Jisung making such a strong resistance made him think of stepping back. What was he even doing? He was sure he was going to regret it later.

"I never kissed you though."

"'Cause the bottle never pointed at me."

Jisung swallowed dry.

"Fine."

Surprised. Minho was surprised.

"What?"

"Give me that thing, I'm too warmed up to decline this offer. And thanks, I guess." Jisung took the blind fold from Minho's hands and he wore it really easily. Then he crossed his arms, waiting. But Minho could not believe that. Did Jisung agree? For real? Did Minho have feelings for him? Why did he ask him that? That was going to mess things up. Oh, Minho was a fool.

No, he was not.

Minho hadn't felt anything for Jisung in months. It was fine. He was just helping his friend with... frustration issues.

"Are you seriously okay with this?" Minho questioned in disbelief.

"Are you?" Jisung replied back.

"Of course I am."  
"So am I."

His mouth. It felt arid.

Minho couldn't feel his saliva. He tried to swallow, but there was nothing. The only thing missing was the sand to make it a real desert in there. The agitation. That didn't vanish. Here it came again. Making its appereance.

"Minho? It's dark in here." Jisung was waiting for him. His voice trembled, but Minho didn't notice. He was too focused on his own hesitation. He stood up and he left the armchair, sitting on the edge of the bed, right in front of his friend. Was it really happening? Or was it one of his usual dreams?

"Is this a prank? 'Cause it feels like one if you don't kiss me. Is there a camera? Are you recording or something?"

Minho rest one hand on Jisung's thigh and he immediately stopped talking. Holding on it, as if it was an anchor for his sanity. Jisung startled, but he didn't say anything. Then Minho leaned towards him, slowly, pressing more and more on his thigh, until he was so close to Jisung he could feel his breath tickling his face. That felt unreal. With the other hand, Minho gently caressed Jisung's cheek, using his thumb to stroke his soft skin, causing shivers through the younger one's spine. Minho could not see them because of the blind fold, but Jisung's eyes were wide open, he was petrified, hanging on every Minho's move. He played with him, passing his finger closer to his mouth, lingering on the corner of it, rubbing on his friend's delicate lips, staring at them, as if he did want to print every single moment of it into his mind. They felt tender under Minho's touch, he wondered how would they feel under his own lips. He had cherished them for so long and now those pretty lips were there for him and him only. Jisung started breathing heavily, he was getting impatient, and Minho did want to kiss him, but everything finally seemed so perfect he could not just go for it, he wanted to live every second of it.

"Are you going to kiss me?." Neediness could be perceived in every single letter, spelled by Jisung's eager spirit. He wanted it. He wanted his kiss as much as Minho wanted his.  
Minho wasn't dreaming, that was real. He must admit, reality was way better than imagination. In his dreams, Jisung was always cocky, confident and relaxed, in his dreams, Minho was the one under his spell, but now, Minho seemed to hold the power. It looked like one touch could make Jisung crumble. Minho had his claws on him. Jisung was doomed.

"Please."

Minho didn't make him wait any longer. He pressed his lips, lightly, against his. It was just a peck, an innocent peck, at first. It was astonishing, astounding. It was so sweet and so perfect, Minho thought he had ended up in one of those romantic comedies in which everyone was happy in pink. It was incredible. Kissing Jisung felt like eating a cherry pie in the middle of a field painted with daisies. Jisung wanted more than a little kiss, and Minho knew what he had to do. So he dared, he aimed for more. He pushed himself to him, still pressing on his thigh, then holding the back of his head, pulling him closer. He passed his tongue on Jisung's tightened lips. He licked on them, gently, at a slow pace, hoping Jisung could understand his intentions. The latter was shivering, shaking a bit, probably done with the whole lingering part. So he bit him. Jisung airly clamped his teeth on Minho's lower lip and he took advantage of his older friend's wonder to slide his tongue into his mouth. Minho was reaching an euphorical state he had never experienced before.

The entire atmosphere had changed. The kiss had changed. It wasn't perfect, not at all. It was hungry, desirous, lustful, greedy. Jisung's hands weren't holding the sheets anymore, they were all around Minho's back, frantically moving back and forth, as if it was his job to explore every single inch of it. It was sloppy, messy, things were escalating so quickly they were about to get out of control. But Minho didn't care, and Jisung didn't seem to care either. Kissing him now, with their idyllic tongues working together, felt like giving birth to the fiercest and the most spectacular, impetuous painting in the history of the Futurism aesthetic. They were so involved in it, everything seemed distant. The noisy music from downstairs, all those people laughing out loud, wine glasses being shattered and girls screaming. They couldn't hear anything but the sound of their breaths in sync. It was bliss.

"God, Minho..." Jisung called him, out of breath in between kissing. His name came as a pray out of Jisung's mouth. Minho swore to himself he had never heard anything more electrifying than that. It was so thrilling and so exciting, he felt something twitching into his body.  
Something twitching.

Oh no.

Minho abruptly broke the kiss, jumping back, sitting the furthest he could, away from Jisung.

Embarrassing, why was he always embarrassing himself?

Jisung was there, still blind folded, confused by the sudden lack of action. Minho's heart was racing a marathon inside his ribcage and he was pretty sure that infamous muscle was winning the game.  
Jisung didn't say anything. He took off the blind fold, carefully. Then he looked up right at Minho. His expression, hard to read.

"Jisung, it's..."

"We should do this more often."

Confusion, total chaos, disarray.

"What?"

"It's insane we've never done it before." Jisung tore his hair out.

"Did you like it?" Minho didn't want to sound so insecure, but for the love of the gods above, he did.

Jisung laughed and he got closer to Minho again.

"What if we make this our thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"We're friends, right?"

Ouch. Minho kind of knew where was this going.

"And so?"

"Friends help each other, so... we could help each other. What do you think?" Jisung's initial confidence was all going away while looking at Minho's not so enthusiastic expression.

"I... I think that... maybe..." In the scheme of possibilities, Minho had never took this one into consideration. It felt disconcerting.

But...

"Guys! Finally! I found you!"

Both of them jumped out of surprise hearing Chan's voice storming into the room and they immediately stood up. "My stupid neighbor called. Apparently he flooded the apartment."

"And why did he call you?" Jisung asked.

"'Cause it's my apartment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again!  
> This is the first part for a total of two, probably. Let me know if you want to read more about it or not; comments and kudos are always appreciated since constructive criticism is the best way to learn! Hope you had a good time, thank you for reading and see you soon!


	2. Mailman's Car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long ride and I don't know how to feel about it.  
> This is not beta read, so I immediately apologise if you read mistakes that make you want to scratch your eyes out.

That had probably been the weirdest car ride Minho had ever experienced during his short and honest twenty one years of earthly life. Affirming such a thing was considerably significant since, there had been also that one time in which Minho and his family had helped a clown escape from the Circus, giving him a ride to the nearest station, so the poorly paid and overworked circus performer could buy the first ticket he could get, headed to the airport in order to take the flight which was going to change his life forever. He was about to leave the red, white and blue make up behind, he was going to forget about those colourful wigs and those rainbow clothes, he was leaving it all to the past, finally chasing his dream, his wonderful life changing dream: being a florist in Jakarta. Minho was only nine when that happened to his family and he was so touched by the former clown's experience he had decided to write about him when his teachers in elementary school had given him the task of making an essay about the bravest person he had met. And in Minho's humble opinion, it surely took some courage for that man to set his Circus boss' office on fire, resign from his position as head clown and getting into the first stranger's car in order to run from cops and authorities who wanted him in jail for arson. That clown was a real life hero. Although, the teachers never thought the same and they called for Minho's parents as soon as possible to discuss about their son's beautiful and vivid imagination. Except, that wasn't something he was making up, only the fair truth.

"Can you remind me why we're all going to your apartment?" Changbin from the front sit had asked Chan, his annoyance could be perfectly perceived by his utterly bothered tone.

"What? Did I, by any chance, interrupt something between you and another unknown guy before? Oh, well, I'm sorry that I needed back up for my house which is, probably, by now, an indoor swimming pool, ready to host the Olympics. I'm sorry that stopped you from eating that boy's face, for the third time this night. As if you don't make out with people all the time. As if I prevented a miracle from happening. I'm sorry the rule bros before hoes does exist!" Chan was driving his minivan, with one hand on the steering wheel while his other one was rubbing his left temple, in a hysterical rhythm. The news of his house turning into an artificial lake wasn't helping his already anxious temper. And since his neighbor hadn't mentioned the scale of the damage at all, his mind had started going through all the stages of paranoia. That was why he was carrying all of his friends with him because he was sure he needed, not just human sources to get rid of the considerable amount of water which was, hypothetically, destroying his apartment, but also, because he was quite sure he needed somebody who could have in mind his medical records while speaking to the ambulance staff, since it was more than a certainty that he was going to faint after seeing the tragical conditions of his apartment. And his friends knew everything about Chan's medical history, since Chan had ended up at the hospital so many times for so many different reasons, they had all collectively lost count. Driving all the six of them in his minivan, the most useless purchase he had ever made since his family wasn't even living in the city. But it was convenient when their entire group of friends was having an outdoor weekend. Chan's minivan had made them save so much money. Even more, considering that they never helped Chan pay for the gasoline. Chan was always the one who paid the most during nights out. Parasites, they were all parasites, Minho himself was a parasite, taking advantage of Chan's extreme kindness. Maybe that was bad. Or maybe not. Thinking about it, wasn't he living the most embarrassing ride of his life because of Chan's demands? Wasn't he stuck into the most awkward situation, sitting on the back sits of his car, right next to the Jisung he was making out with just half an hour ago? In that claustrophobic cockpit where it was impossible to hide. They hadn't even talked about it.

The kiss.

They were going to talk about it, but suddenly Chan had stormed in, without a single warning, breaking into the room, as if he was part of some sort of S.W.A.T. squad and the room, in which the two of them were, was actually some terrorists' hideout, full of lethal explosive devices about to strike out. When the only fatal bomb was the one exploded into the sanctuary of Minho and Jisung's innocent and everlasting friendship. That holy shrine had been destroyed, the altar of their once pure relationship desecrated by the mere act of intertwining tongues. Everything was ruined, the strong pillars of their brotherly connection were giving in under the weight of a profane sacrilege. The temple of their fraternity was nothing more than ashes, and Minho was scared of the phoenix which could have risen from them. Minho had been stupid. Stupid and naive. Jisung said they were still friends. Minho, in the first place, had said they were going to be still friends. Nevertheless, it didn't feel right, at all. 'Cause Minho was sure that stomach pain he was going through hadn't been because of those raw ostriches he had eaten when he had attended the inauguration of the new fish market downtown, right before the party. He knew that sensation of having his entrails tied, as if clowns were using those instead of common balloons, to model the sculpture of a little puppy dog out of his intestines. The whole idea of kissing was a giant flashing warning about not playing with fire, but Minho did pretend not to see it. He avoided every signal and he was now burning into the result of his reckless behaviour. He had kissed Jisung, thinking he could handle that. Jisung had kissed him back. Just once, Minho had thought for the whole time, this time only, it's not going to affect you. You're here, just helping a friend. And maybe he could have handled once. If Jisung had just thanked him for the stress relief, kissed him on the cheek, got out of that damn room which was now the crime scene of Minho's soul, he could have handled. But no, obviously life wasn't going to give Minho the easy way. Of course things had to get worse. Of course Jisung was going to be so impressed by their newly discovered physical compatibility had to ask that. He had to ruin him, make that solely, mere, apparently harmless question which was now haunting Minho, resonating into those four walls which were creating a comfortable and safe space for his thoughts, right into his head.

What if we make this our thing?

Those simple words, the incriminating evidences, guilty of messing up with Minho's distressed mind.

Minho was staring intensely at the streets passing beyond the car window, as if he secretly wished he could get out of there instead of suffering because of the unbearable proximity to Jisung, who ended up crashing into him every time Chan took a turn left. He felt nervous, agitated, he was hardly trying to ignore the entire situation he was living earlier that he was aware he wasn't acting as if things were perfectly normal for him. Fortunately, his other friends were too busy trying to support Chan and his deep felt oration about his new enemy Mr. Neighbor to notice Minho, desperately pressing his own face to the cold glass. But Jisung, Jisung was right beside him and Minho knew Jisung knew he wasn't fine, at all. Minho heard his phone vibrating inside his pocket. He took it out, as smooth as he could, even if he couldn't lie: the sudden sound had disturbed his try to reach an artificial state of tranquillity. He unlocked the screen.

Are you okay with talking about it later?

Then he felt a hand softly touching his thigh. Minho nodded and Jisung smiled. What was he doing? Why had he dragged himself in such a tragical scenario? Why a simple kiss was leading into that? Why a little kiss was giving Minho so much trouble? Why did Minho offer Jisung a kiss in the first place? He shouldn't had done that. So many things he could do to show him his support, so many things. Minho could have sung a song, give Jisung a ballet demonstration, hand him a tissue, tell him a joke, but no, Minho had to overdo, obviously. A kiss, between friends. Friends, as if Minho had ever thought of Jisung as a friend. No, it couldn't be like that, Minho used to think of him as a friend, he didn't fall for him right away... or did he? Why was he so confused and why was he trying to sabotage his own self? That was messed up, Minho was messed up. An abrupt hard braking warned Minho he had to stop overthinking and start acting normally since they were now arrived at Chan's house. Don't be weird, Minho murmured to himself. And he wasn't going to.

"I think I'm getting angry again." Chan let his thoughts out while they were all making it up the stairs. His apartment keys were trembling in his hands, Chan was angry. It wasn't even so subtle. Minho kind of felt bad for the poor guy who was going to face his rage. Chan was peaceful most of the times, he wasn't an aggressive person at all, but he was scary when got mad. Everyone shared the same thought.

"Let him speak first, don't come at him, maybe it's not even that bad." Felix suggested looking immediately away when the older boy had loudly snorted, frustrated.

"How could it not be that bad?"

"Maybe it's just the living room, not the whole house."

"But I still don't get a very small detail: why was he in your apartment in the first place?" Seungmin dared to ask.

"I still don't get why we didn't take the elevator." Changbin complained. 

"Shut up Changbin." Chan made him go quiet. "Anyway, I allowed him. God, am I an idiot?"

"You did what?" Seungmin questioned in disbelief.

"I asked him to water my plants, since I was with you guys, at the party." Chan explained disheartened.

"Water your plants? You were at a party! You were going to come back at some point, you could have done it later, why calling him?" Seungmin still couldn't believe it.

"I water my plants every day at nine! That's why they're so strong and beautiful and healthy and absolutely the most gorgeous babies in the whole world."

"Are we still talking about plants? Or you secretly have sons?" Changbin made fun of Chan's dedication.

"Shut up Changbin." This time it was Seungmin who said it. Changbin rolled his eyes. "Why do y'all hate me? Felix? You don't right?" Changbin tried surrounding Felix's waist with his arm, but Felix seemed bitter, distant. So he easily dodged the other one's attempt of getting closer, sliding quickly to Seungmin's side. "Just, shut up Changbin." Felix said, not even looking at him directly. Changbin seemed hurt? Offended? Maybe bothered. Something was definitely off between those two, but Minho was too involved with his own struggles, he wasn't really paying attention to his friends' interactions while climbing up the stairs.

"I see how it is." Changbin whispered legitimately irritated.

"Is it something you do often? Giving your keys to your neighbors so they can help your plants grow? Aren't you scared of someone, I don't know, stealing from you? And you say I am the dumb guy in the group." Jisung laughed.

"I had a trusted neighbor okay? He was seventy three, a respectable man, he watered my children every time I couldn't do it myself. And he never took anything from me. Except that time he stole my comb, and I still don't get it since he's bald, but whatever."

"So you two are related." Jisung supposed.

"Everyone's hair falls when they're stressed! I'm not going bald." Chan stated firmly. Tired of the continuous jokes on his delicate skin needy of hypoallergenic products to avoid hair loss. Minho smiled at Chan's hysterical response and Jisung seemed glad to notice he was smiling. He rubbed his hand against Minho's one, maybe unconsciously, probably by accident, or did he want to hold his hand? As soon as Minho looked at their hands below, Jisung took away his. What was that?

"Anyway, he used to water my plants, but then... you know... he's gone."

"Did he die?" Felix opened his eyes wide.

"No! No, Felix, no! He did not! He moved to Switzerland! He liked my plants so much he bought one of his own. It turned out it was hemp, he couldn't take care of it here, so he moved out." Chan explained as if an old man growing marijuana wasn't more shocking than an old man dying.

"Okay..." Seungmin sounded weirded out. "He moved so you put the neighbor you hate in charge of watering your plants. Seems perfectly logical to me." He said with irony. 

"I asked around and nobody wanted to do that, he was the only one, don't put the blame on me!"

"I'm not saying anything since it's your house, but... man." Changbin commented eagerly after being shut up three times.

Then they finally reached Chan's floor. There was only one step missing, but when they touched the ground, there it was: water, a thin layer of invisible coloured water, under the boys' shoes. "This doesn't seem good." Minho stated when his socks inside his sneakers were being threatened.

They bravely reached Chan's front door. They looked down at the door's small hairline crack which defined a massive chink that stream of water could use to go all over the fifth floor. It seemed like a wrecked giant had cried in there. The water was everywhere. Chan's apartment could not look any better. Chan took a deep breath. They were all holding their breaths as their older friend was turning the key into the door lock. "I can't make it." Chan stopped, freezing at the idea of his house being flooded. "We're not leaving you." Felix put a hand on his shoulder, trying to instill some courage into him.

"Okay." Chan worded quietly, then he unlocked the door. He pushed it lightly. The door emitted the creepiest creak of them all while it was slowly opening itself. Chan covered his eyes, fearing the worst scenario could appear behind that wooden entrance. They stepped in. And when they did it, they felt nothing under their feet.

Dry. The floor was dry.

"Chan." Jisung called while checking the damages. He squatted, he passed his fingers on the parquet. He did it again. "There's no water in here."

"Jisung's right. There's nothing. That's strange." Seungmin said confused.

"But, but outside is a mess, my neighbor called, he was here, he saw the water, we saw the water out there, this can't..." Chan mumbled astonished. He inspected every corner of the living room, he moved the couch, he even looked under the pillows as if water could be hidden under those. Nothing. It was all clear.

"I swear he called me and..."

"Chan! The party's over already?"

That was surprising, Minho did not expect to meet Chan's new neighbor like that, for sure. He didn't even expect to see him coming out of his friend's bathroom, wearing a questionable lather jacket as if they were shooting a Grease remake, holding a mop in one hand and a bucket filled with water in his other hand. The guy smiled, tenderly, while Chan was recurring to all of his strength trying not to scream at the audacity of the boy who was standing in front of him as if nothing happened. Minho could spot his temple vein almost on its way to explode.

"I guess these guys are your friends, so... nice to meet you, my name is..."

"Where's the water, where did you hide it?" Chan asked calmly, but his trembling hand as nervous contraction didn't suggest any good.

"You cannot hide water." The neighbor replied. "I cleaned all by myself, I was expecting something like a thank you, but it's fine, I guess you're not in the mood for talking." The guy took a few steps which led him to Chan who was still standing petrified. "It was a pleasure to meet you people, I hope you have nicer neighbors, 'cause, obviously, I got no luck." He said handing Chan the mop, then reaching for the doorknob. 

They boys were all looking at Chan, waiting for the smallest reaction. Even the other guy seemed to hesitate before opening the door in order to get out, as if he was still lingering, expecting something from the other one.

"I'm not a nice neighbor? You're saying I'm not a nice neighbor? You dare defaming me in front of my friends? That's what you're doing, Woojin?"

Minho looked at the leather jacket man who seemed to have a name now, Woojin. His face lit up in a slight grin.

"Could you at least tell me what happened in here?" Chan was now raising his voice more and more at every word.

Woojin laughed. "I was watering your plants, I noticed your kitchen tap was making a weird noise, I wanted to check myself before leaving your place, I opened it, it kind of exploded, your apartment basically turned into the Han river, I called you, then I personally fixed the tap, I got rid of all of the water and then you came. Right after the party in here was over. But still, no thanks coming from you, so yes, you're a bad neighbor." He said, not even turning around to face a definitely raging Chan.

"Is it because of the eviction notice? You cannot stay if you don't pay, have you heard me?"

"You're right, and you cannot cook if you don't have fire." Woojin said before leaving for real.

"What? It doesn't even rhyme." Chan said, but Woojin was already out of the apartment.

"Eviction notice?" Felix asked.

"I told you he's always late with the rent, so the whole building basically wants him out and I guess he's venting to me."

"But he cleaned your apartment and fixed your tap. How in the world that is venting?" Seungmin wondered.

"I don't know, maybe..." Then he suddenly went silent.

"What is it?" Changbin stared at Chan. "Maybe what?"

"The hob."

"Do you mean Changbin?" Seungmin tried to come up with an interpretation.

"That's hobbit, nerd. Not hob." Changbin glanced at him annoyed.

"Hob, my hob. The stovetop. The hob! He stole my hob!" Chan claimed before running away, disappearing into the kitchen. Everyone stood there, nobody moved. Waiting for their friend to explain his sudden accusations towards that guy, Woojin. A hob? Was it possible to steal a hob? Minho looked around and every single one of his friends was as confused as he was. Then Chan showed up again, seeming on the verge of a mental crisis. He let out an heavily funny, but also worrisome scream. Without glancing at his friends standing there in his living room, he immediately rushed outside the apartment. They all followed him, who was now knocking at Woojin's door.

"Come out, you idiot! Give me my hob back!" He called for his neighbor with such a vehemence he looked like a cop ready to break down a criminal's door. He kept yelling, punching with even more strength the front door, trying to induce Woojin to open it. "I'm gonna sue you! Sick bastard! Have fun paying for the lawyer with no money!" He threatened him, but still no answer came from the inside of Woojin's apartment.

"Chan? Can we help? With something? Is there anything you need?" Seungmin tried distracting their older friend from hitting the door, but he wasn't listening.

"I'm gonna set your house on fire and I'm gonna dance in your burning bedroom and you're gonna believe I'm the devil, there to send you in that damn hell where you belong, asshole!" Chan screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Okay I guess he doesn't need any help for coming up with threats, so..." Changbin said out loud. "I think we can leave now."

"Did he really steal his hob?" Jisung asked as they were about to take the stairs. "I didn't think a hob could be stolen so easily."

"I think that Woojin guy is like a hooligan." Seungmin noticed.

"I think he's kinda cool." Felix admitted and they all looked at him as if he had just confessed a murder. "What? Did you see the jacket? That was cool."

"Since when you're into leather jackets?" Changbin said strangely upset.

"Is there a problem?"

"Absolutely not. I just remembered you saying you didn't want to take my jacket that night after we all went to the movies, it was really cold. But you refused 'cause you didn't like leather." Changbin reminded Felix and Minho could sense his friend getting riled up for some reason.

"I like leather jackets, I don't like yours." Felix said irritated.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, it's black."

"What? Woojin's jacket is also black!" Changbin couldn't believe his words.

"Why are you obsessing over a stupid jacket?" Felix seemed angry.

"You know what? I don't care." Changbin quickened his steps, leaving all of them behind.

"You don't care? Nice! 'Cause you never do!" Felix screamed from a flight of stairs to another. Changbin muttered something, but he was way too far for Minho to hear. Why those two were getting so mad at each other over clothes? But nobody said a thing nor asked anything, until they all reached the ground floor and finally, they were out of the building. They waved each other goodbye, Changbin was already gone and Minho was more confused than ever. That night had been confusing as hell, and it wasn't even done. Craving the soft and comfortable hug of his own bed, waiting for him in his room, Minho was blocked from getting on his way home by a definitely over excited Jisung. He forgot, Minho almost forgot.

"Hey!" Jisung interrupted his fantasies about finally getting some rest. "I thought we were going to talk." He told him, sounding weirdly hopeful.

"Oh, right." Minho smiled trying to hide the strong desire of running away from that suffocating conversation. "Let's talk then." It wasn't going to be painfully awkward. Minho prayed for it to not be painfully awkward.

"Okay, so... what happened tonight." Jisung brought it on the discussion table. "Do you regret that? I mean, it was more than an hour ago, so I guess each of us had matured... an opinion... on the matter?"

"Are we talking about us kissing or about global warming?" Minho hid his agitation behind an amused behaviour.

"Minho, c'mon! I'm trying."

"Trying doing what?"

"Talking about the possibility of us kissing, like, regularly."

So Jisung was basically sure about it. He wanted Minho, not as a friend only, he wanted him, in a more intimate way. He had mentioned kissing, who knew which developments the future was holding for them. Suddenly he couldn't breath, Minho felt like those human air conducts of his weren't working anymore. Jisung's face saddened hearing no response from Minho.

"I'm... Okay, no, just forget about it, I'm an idiot and I'm sorry." Jisung seemed mortified without a valid reason.

"You're sorry?" Minho didn't understand.

"I'm an ass, I put you in this uncomfortable situation, you were there, cheering me up and I basically took advantage of your kindness. You think I didn't notice how your face dropped when I asked you... that thing? God, I'm so stupid. And how nervous you looked when we were all together in Chan's car. I'm... Minho forgive me. Seriously I care about our friendship, I would never ruin it. I care about you and I'm sorry and I get it if us kissing is too weird for you and you're right. But please accept my apologies and let's not bring up this whole thing ever again. I feel so stupid."

Was he sorry? Did he think Minho was weirded out by the idea of them kissing? Jisung was so wrong. And yes, Minho had shown nothing but detachment for the whole night, but that wasn't because he despised the possibility of kissing Jisung. He loved the idea of kissing Jisung. He was enthusiast about the idea of kissing Jisung. The only thing holding him back from saying yes and accepting Jisung's offer was that intense and unexplainable fear. The natural fear of getting too close and ending up being hurt, the innate sense of terror generated by the mere possibility of losing his mind while chasing a star light years away from him. He didn't want to reject Jisung, but was he that strong to handle it if it was, eventually, going to hurt? Could Minho accept, even if, deep down, kissing Jisung could never be just kissing for him? Could Minho accept intimacy without feelings even if he had fallen for the guy already? Wasn't it lying? Wasn't it lying to Jisung's face? Wasn't that pure egoism? Hiding his emotions from him, making him think he was okay with it, that it meant nothing, even if it meant the world. Or was that genuine altruism, putting his heart aside, nullifying his own self and his own feelings for the sake of Jisung's wishes?

"Since you're not saying anything, I guess I gotta go. I'm extremely sorry, I'm..." Jisung was getting it started again, interrupting the entire stream of consciousness Minho was going through. He had decided, though. Minho had come to a conclusion.

"Okay, okay Jisung, let's do this." Minho didn't mean to mumble while talking, but he couldn't help.

"What? Are you okay with it?" Jisung exclaimed incredibly amazed. "But, but you didn't seem to be fine, you kept quiet the whole night, I thought... I thought..." He couldn't even formulate a proper sentence considering how surprising that was.

"I was just... distracted." Minho made up. "By Chan's issue, you have nothing to do with it."

"Are you so sensitive about flooded apartments?" Jisung raised an eyebrow.

"You cry when you make a pie." Minho thought it was legit to point out.

"Eggs. I cry when people break eggs. 'Cause I think about the little chicks which are never going to see the light of our days." Jisung affirmed solemnly.

"But you still eat pies." Minho underlined.

"A man gotta do what a man gotta do."

"You were right, you're stupid." Minho said, taking a few steps ahead, headed home.

"Hey! You can't leave like that! So?" Jisung couldn't conceal the urge in his tone.

Minho sighed. He had to say it. Decisions had been made.

"I'm fine with being friends." He started it.

"We're already friends, Minho." Jisung got closer to him, spelling his friend's name slowly, probably trying to appear seductive while doing so. Minho laughed. A nervous laugh was all it came, considering how uncomfortable he felt with finding out Jisung's attempt to look alluring in Minho's eyes was actually working on him. Obviously he couldn't show it. Jisung was just kidding. Minho looked away. He wasn't going to compromise himself so soon.

"I know that."

"So? We're friends, and...?" Jisung insisted for Minho to come up with a proper definition.

"We're friends, those friends who also do stuff. That kind of friends. C'mon Jisung, you know what I mean."

"You can't even say it! Since when you're a prude?" Jisung tried not to laugh.

"I'm not a prude! And I can say it." Minho said sulky.

"Then say it!"

"We're friends with benefits, or something." Minho muttered, but it was enough for Jisung to show the brightest smile Minho had ever seen painting his face.

"And I am the virgin." Jisung commented entertained by Minho's unexpected discreet behaviour.

"You are the virgin, Jisung."

"What if I'm not?"

"You're not a virgin anymore?" Minho had his eyes wide open in a matter of seconds. "Are you joking?"

"I don't know." Jisung took a few steps closer to Minho, he was now playing with the zip of his friend's jacket, not even looking at his face. Jisung was trying to look cool in front of Minho. The latter was used to it. Jisung did that often, he did that with everyone actually. It was also part of his layered and complex personality, but now Minho could sense an uncommon uncertainty pervading Jisung's actions. A foreign hesitation, completely extraneous to his regular confidence. Although his voice was totally stable when he talked again after a long, long pause. "Let's find out." He said before pressing his lips on Minho's ones, softly and quickly. Then stepping back, as if nothing had just happened.

"See you tomorrow!" He said waving at him.

"Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?" Minho asked, his mind temporarily out of order because of the unforeseen light kiss.

"We have class, you have class. Don't you remember that? Goodnight, friend!" And then he left, but Minho was so busy with questioning if what had happened had been real, that he didn't even notice Jisung going away, leaving him standing, a few metres away from Chan's apartment, still far from his own house. He agreed. Minho did agree. That was it. It was done. Minho wasn't Jisung's friend anymore. Or, at least, he wasn't a regular friend anymore.

"What the fuck was that?"

During that metaphysical instant, Minho believed that, somehow, his very own conscience, his inner self, his personal Jiminy Cricket had come out of his body, without him even noticing, showing up in front of his astonished eyes. But it last just a moment, and soon Minho realized, he wasn't facing his own spirifual reflection, but something definitely less holy and definitely less wise. Changbin. There he was, Changbin.

"Minho, I asked you a question: what was that? Were you and Jisung kissing? Without a bottle spinning anywhere?"

"What? We weren't." Changbin had seen the two of them. Minho couldn't lie, but he gave it a shot anyway. It could have worked. It was dark at night, it could have worked.

"I'm not blind."

It couldn't work, obviously it couldn't work. So, Minho, tried everything in his power in order to dissemble and change the subject as soon as possible. He had to.

"You're not blind, but you're creepy, shit! Weren't you supposed to be home by now? You scared me. It should be illegal for people of your height crawling outside this late at night, I didn't even see you there. God, wear a reflective vest or something." Blaming on his height, making fun of his height, Changbin always fell for it. Always. His Achille's heel. 

"I'm not home 'cause I came back to Chan since I had forgotten my keys at his apartment and here I am now, watching you. Anyway, you're trying to distract me. I'm not buying it." Minho wished Changbin was more of an idiot, but he was not. "What the hell were you talking about? Friends with what? What did you do Minho? Did you fuck him?" Changbin was asking, utterly disturbed by the possibility of such a scenario coming to reality.

"Say it louder! The people inside that airplane didn't hear you!" Minho was about to tear his hair out, while carelessly pointing at the inky sky above.

"That's not an airplane! That's a planet, it's Venus. Minho, are you insane?" Changbin seemed pretty intimidating for being as tall as a kindergarten student.

"I don't care, just shut up!" Minho worded and he started walking away, hoping that could stop Changbin from asking for a direct comparison. He wasn't ready, Minho wasn't ready to talk about Jisung. He was never going to be. Changbin didn't seem to care, though.

"Where are you going? Why are you running?"

"I'm not running, I'm just walking considerably fast." Minho said before being brutally stopped by his friend.

"Do you hate yourself?" Changbin asked, and that single question made Minho abandon the idea of trying to escape immediately. "Do you hate yourself so much that you put yourself into a situation you know you cannot handle at all? Do you hate yourself, man?"

"What do you mean?" Minho said cautiously. He didn't want to have that conversation, but here they were.

"Friends with benefits? Really? Do you think you're stuck into a low quality romcom for teens? You have feelings for the guy, he has not. What is this stupid trick? Even high schoolers dropped this shit years ago."

"I do not have feelings for him. And this is none of your business anyway." Minho contested dry.

"This is not my business? For real? As if you two are not my best friends? As if I didn't witness you falling from grace as soon as Jisung appeared in our miserable lives? As if I didn't see you denying that you're madly into him?"

"Yeah, you're in the audience, keep staying in the audience." Minho stated, now determined to avoid that pointless discussion.

"He has a girlfriend, Minho. And I don't know what led you two to this conclusion, to this decision, but he has a girlfriend and you are not part of it. You'll never be part of his romantic life. Could you at least acknowledge that?" Changbin followed Minho when the latter started walking again.

Minho didn't say anything back, he didn't intend to. He wasn't going to reply. It wasn't worth it.

"He's gonna leave you, don't you understand? He's gonna leave you, at some point, Minho. He thinks it's funny now, having an affair with you, since his girlfriend isn't giving him enough attentions. He thinks it's funny now, 'cause the feeling is new, the sensation is exciting and he loves you, as a friend. But friend is the only way he sees you, and being his friend doesn't give you the right to impose your feelings on him, and you know that. He's gonna get bored at some point and he will ask you to stop this whole thing. And then what? What are you gonna do? With your deep feelings and all? Are you going to confess to him? Thinking he might be into you somehow? Do you really have that hope? 'Cause it's stupid, Minho, and I'm sure you're aware of that."

Minho ignored those words. Changbin thought Minho was stupid? Did Changbin think he hadn't thought about it? Did he think Minho was a naive hopeless romantic? He was not, he was just desperate. He didn't wish for Jisung to realize his undiscovered feelings for Minho in the meantime, he was just desperate for him. He just needed him, even for a few seconds, even for a moment, Minho needed Jisung, but Jisung didn't need Minho in the same way, so the latter had to settle for a compromise. That friends with benefits thing? The best compromise he could get out of it.

"Minho, listen to me! I'm not telling you this 'cause I despise you or because I wanna make you cry, but I don't want you to taste something and then ending up biting your own tongue, bleeding, because that something fell out of your mouth before you could get your teeth on it. Do you get it?" Changbin wasn't that great with metaphors.

"What are you even saying? Biting my tongue? That's not even slang." Minho said more irritated than confused at that point.

"Hear me out, I'm here to suggest you..."

"What? What do you wanna suggest me? Really bold of you to suggest me something." Minho aggressively snapped.

"Watch out what you're saying, Min." Changbin warned him, his voice was calm, but his intentions were not.

"What kind of visionary do you think you are? You, the one who jumps from one guy to another and from another guy to a girl and then another guy, and then another one, and then, again, a girl."

"Are you trying to slut shame me or something?" Changbin was furious. 

"Oh, absolutely not. It doesn't bother me, 'cause everyone is free to do what they want with their lives, but I'm not up to suggestions, especially from someone who keeps acting so superficially knowing he is gonna hurt the only person out there who really cares about him. Pushing him away, taking him back, do you really think I didn't notice that, Changbin? We're friends and I love you, but you're not suited for giving people relationships advices, since you're probably the first one who needs those."

"What are you talking about? And how dare you?" Changbin held himself from screaming.

"What I'm talking about? As if you don't know I'm referring to Felix."

"This is not about me and Felix." Changbin said and his voice cracked. He was holding himself back. Minho was testing him.

"You're right, it's not about Felix nor you. That's why you shouldn't talk. At least, I know what I want and I'm not out there, giving false hope to people and then rejecting them 'cause I'm scared of commitment." Minho judged harshly, maybe too harshly, since Changbin didn't even react. He stood there. Immobile.

Minho thought the argument they were having was finally over, but Changbin talked again, calmly, this time, resigned, almost.

"I don't want you to get hurt." Changbin confessed and Minho believed him. He did believe him, but his choice had been made and it was final. He appreciated his friend's worry, but he wasn't going to step back. He needed him. He needed Jisung.

"What if I want to get hurt?" Minho replied and Changbin knew, after those simple words, he couldn't do anything to change his friend's mind. Minho had decided and he was going to face the consequences of his choice.

"Got it." Changbin whispered.

"Changbin, I'm sorry." Minho said, a sudden sense of regret rising, because of the unpleasant assumptions he had made about him out of anger.

"You didn't mean it, I know." His friend forgave him. "Well, it's time to go home, I guess."

"Yeah, it is. But please, don't tell anybody." Minho asked and then smiled, hoping that could ease the tension previously created. And it did.

"Don't worry, I'll pretend I didn't see, even if, I gotta say, I found it a bit gross. Anyway, don't smile too much tomorrow or people will think you got laid. Loser." Changbin joked, then he paused. "Wait... did you?" He suddenly sounded alarmed.

Minho laughed. "Goodnight Changbin!"

"Minho! Answer me! Did you? Did you get laid with my other best friend? Did you?"

He didn't, but somehow, Minho let him believe he did.

When Minho closed his eyes that night, his head touching his soft pillow, he thought things were going to change, deeply and abruptly. Except, they didn't.

He met Jisung again, the next day, as usual, it was normal since they were attending the same college and Minho felt nervous, so nervous he didn't even know how to act around Jisung. He knew they had made that decision together, he knew his best friend was actually the one who came up with the brilliant idea, but still, Minho was stuck, frozen. Was he supposed to act differently? Did he have to do something in particular? Did Jisung want him to do something peculiar? The whole overthinking session had been summed up in a way too awkward nod Minho had given Jisung, nothing more, right before classes starting, then in proceeding to avoid him for the entire morning, until he was forced to face him at lunch, since he couldn't ghost his entire group of friends because of one guy. He reached their table, anxious as hell. He sat there, not looking at Jisung too much, scared the latter was already regretting what they had established the previous night, scared things could change, scared that would have been the beginning of the end, scared he was going to expose himself too much, scared he was going to lose his face, scared he was going to lose Jisung. Everything was so ordinary, though, all his friends were nicely chatting about lessons and exams, Felix was eyerolling everytime Changbin opened his mouth, but Minho wasn't feeling alright. What if he hadn't made the right choice? What if? Then he felt it.

A sign.

Someone telling him he was doing great, he was going to be okay, and that someone was Jisung, holding his hand under the table, where no one could see. Holding on tight as if he was willing to take his restlessness away. Minho looked up, Jisung smiled, bright as always. It was alright. "I haven't paid so much attention to you talking, guys, but I'm sure Changbin is wrong." Jisung said to the other ones, still holding Minho's hand secretly. "I haven't even talked!" Changbin replied offended. Jisung laughed, then Minho laughed too. They were friends. Minho could make it. Friends with benefits, he thought, it should come off easily. And right after seeing Jisung's precious smile shining, so vividly, he understood that he didn't have to be anxious around him, he didn't need to get nervous, that was just Jisung and they had been best friends for over a year, he wasn't risking anything. They were friends. Minho had to keep this in mind.

"Is everything alright?" Jisung had asked him at the end of classes that day. "You seemed uncomfortable today and I know we talked about this yesterday, but I don't want you to be pressured to do something you actually don't want to do because of me and I know I'm being repetitive, but..." Jisung was basically rapping, considering how fast he was letting all of his inner turmoils out. Minho felt relieved. Maybe Jisung didn't care about him the way Minho cared about Jisung, but he cared. He was in good hands. He cared, it was all that mattered. Minho looked around, the parking lot was empty, it was always empty after classes, so he took it upon himself and he kissed him. He kissed Jisung again, in the middle of the parking lot, right where they had met, at the dawn of time.

Jisung was caught out of guard, he stood there, looking at Minho, at a loss for words, he couldn't help but stare, completely dazed. "Yep, I'm definitely alright." Minho replied, trying to hide his happiness since he had been able to leave Jisung speechless. No more second thoughts, no more hesitation, Minho was going to enjoy every single second of that new exctining and thrilling experience. Was it going to end, at some point? Sure, but he had to live the moment, and he was going to live it all through. "You need a ride home?" Minho had asked then, recalling Jisung to reality. Jisung nodded and that's when it all started.

When their mutual interest in making the other feel good began. Not much did change actually, Minho had been all worried for nothing. It was easy. Maybe easier than he thought, he felt natural, spontaneous. It didn't feel wrong, it didn't feel sick or insane. It was like everything was finally coming into pieces. Afraid of losing Jisung, afraid of ruining their friendship and compromising their relationship, Minho had to admit he had made a colossal miscalculation. Because their bond grew stronger, and Minho didn't even know how that had happened. Minho didn't even understand how Jisung and him were actually enhancing their connection through that. There was mutual trust, complicity, empathy. At first glance, people could not perceive that, from the outside others couldn't even picture how things were working between them, 'cause they stayed true to their word: they were friends. They kept doing friends stuff, they kept going out with the others, they kept sharing thoughts and dreams and ideas with no filter. They were still hanging around at Chan's, they were still making phone pranks at Seungmin, making him all mad since he always told them about how he didn't want distractions while studying, they were still drinking at Saturday nights with Changbin, they were still trying to investigate about Felix's relationship status which was a mystery for everyone in there, Changbin excluded, but Changbin was also a huge variable when it came to love affairs, so it didn't count. Even when they were alone, all by themselves, when the situation could turn embarrassing or confusing, all felt genuine. Like their studying meetings, which often led to gossip meetings, talking about things they heard in the university hallways. Keeping up with shocking news and scandals, like when the canteen lady was busted raising a family of deer mice in the shelf where tuna was kept. She had even named them after famous scientists, and a girl cried when she found Nikola Tesla in her mashed potatoes and not only in her physics exam. They talked, they laughed, everything was the same. The only thing that differed from how it used to be, was that surely, they didn't use to end their college updates taking odontology classes, practicing their nonexistent dentistry skills, making out, curled up and cozy, in Minho's couch, mostly, in Jisung's one sometimes. But it didn't feel weird, it didn't seem inappropriate. Minho could say, truthfully, it felt quite right. Even when Jisung's girlfriend texted him, 'cause yes, those two had not broken up, and it was okay to Minho. 'Cause they were friends, and they were just fooling around, he was cool with it. Even if those two were going through a hard time, Minho wasn't going to cheer for a split up, even if there was a minimal chance Jisung's relationship with her could die, any moment, he was not going to interfere, having no interest in getting in the middle of it. But sure, those troubles with his girlfriend had led to a needier Jisung to satisfy. And he would have been lying if Minho had told he wasn't delighted by that fortunate turn of events. Apparently, Jisung craved physical attentions a lot, and Minho was no one to deny him those kind of attentions. So, yeah, they were friends, and probably nobody really believed they were actually that intimate (except for Changbin, but that was under control), but since Jisung was all over him at any chance given, Minho had no reason to step back. There was no place in college in which they hadn't kissed, there was no stall in which Minho hadn't prayed for all that physical tension to turn into something more. Taking advantage of every empty classroom, even empty hallways sometimes, since Minho had found out Jisung seemed to have a thing for the risk of being caught. In fact, it was when they kissed in hallways that Jisung got more eager, bolder, yearning, even aggressive sometimes. In those moments, with his back smashed against a wall, with Jisung's hands running under his shirt, with his lips pouncing on his neck, reckless and careless, with their short breaths colliding into one, Minho wondered where were the boundaries at. Which were the terms of their agreement, which limits had been imposed. Although he enjoyed letting his imagination roam free, thinking about possible scenarios which included Jisung and him in a less innocent setting, he didn't have the intention to propose anything. Jisung had never mentioned sex, nor he had mentioned any of the things which could have been related to it. So, even if, generally speaking, in the common knowledge of humanity, the friends with benefits label promoted the presence of an intercourse along with the spoken deal, Minho sweared to himself he was never going to bring it up. Kissing Jisung was enough, he thought. Until Jisung himself proved him wrong.

Just to be clear, Minho's creepy dreams about Jisung had stopped. They had stopped a long ago, even before that whole mess, so they had been buried dead and not alive, for good, once it all started. It was like Minho's mind was finally in peace, knowing he could have at least a tiny part of Jisung for himself. So, sticking to kissing and not going any further didn't represent such a problematic issue for Minho to handle, but somehow, one of those night, he got visitors. Obviously, he didn't mean to. Obviously, he couldn't control the deep of his conflicted mind, especially during his sleep, particularly during his sleep, when he could do nothing, but be a spectator of his own hidden feelings and secrets. Although he thought he had everything figured out, his subconscious had to disagree, by showing him, a very realistic picture of him and Jisung doing God knows what in the back sits of his car. As soon as he woke up, he didn't even remember all the details, the image quickly flew out of his brain, but he definitely knew what had happened in that dream, since he felt dizzy, very much confused and, as the most important evidence supporting his theory, he had to change his sheets again. And he knew it was about Jisung since he could still see the resemblance between the guy who was giving him head and his best friend, it wasn't that graphic anymore, but, deep down, Minho knew. And when his cellphone rang that morning, showing him messages on their shared groupchat with Felix asking what did they think about spending their Friday night, avoiding stupid and noisy clubs and joining the new escape room which had been up just recently, with the intention of trying it out, Minho almost immediately forgot his inappropriate dream and he sided with Felix when he said Changbin was boring for not wanting to go.

In a democracy in which everyone had the right to speak but Changbin, they unanimously voted for their night to be escape room themed. Minho liked those stuff, he didn't get scared easily and he had to admit he was actually good at solving mysteries and murder cases. Significant was his cold blood and his lucidity which never left his side under any circumstances. That was why he still had the mental strength to not drop his studies to start his life as a homeless man instead. He was able to keep his calm even under pressure. His friends, on the other hand, weren't as good as him and they kind of slowed him down during those games, especially when they played as a team. Truth to be told, Felix wasn't that bad; Chan had been fine, until he had seen a horror movie about escape rooms and he had lost it completely; Seungmin was smart, but too sceptical, so he wasn't that funny too play with since he always complained about how everything seemed so staged; Changbin did nothing but cry, but at the end he always took all the credits for the solved case and then there was Jisung. Jisung was unbelievably loud, in a way it wasn't amusing anymore. A random person with a mask on appearead? Jisung screamed. After turning the corner a threat written in blood was infesting the entire wall? Jisung screamed. They had finally solved the escape room? Jisung screamed. Out of joy and not agony, but still, he screamed. And yes, Minho knew that was the point of the game, but it was hard to concentrate on exposing the culprit when his best friend was trying to challenge Whitney Houston's vocal range right next to him. In conclusion, Minho was ready for the night, and his mind was completely distracted from any thing which could have worried him or put him into a state of panic. And when they started playing that night, everything went as Minho predicted. Felix helped him, Seungmin ate the blood he got covered into since he noticed it was nothing but ketchup, Chan kept his eyes closed during the whole process, Changbin just whined and Jisung, as previously assumed, tried to reach a natural G5. They were almost close to having the case figured out, but at some point, in proximity to the end, Jisung made a mistake Minho didn't even remember and one of the villains thought it was cool to punish Minho along with Jisung, just because they were teaming together and the other ones were basically found missing in that horror maze.

"You two, get in there." The guy under the costume of a dread doctor told them with a peremptory order, and when he led them to a considerable small closet, Minho felt the urge to cry. Who knew how much time they were going to spend in there, they were going to lose the game. It couldn't be. Minho had never lost. "You're gonna get out of here if your friends find these keys." The boy showed Minho and Jisung the object, before locking them both in that consistently narrow and old wardrobe. That was it. They lost. Minho couldn't bet everything he had on Felix, so he was sure their team was doomed already. Minho snorted, not even trying to hide the annoyance.

"What are you? A horse?" Jisung complained when he could perceive Minho's breathing behind his neck.

"We lost." Minho complained back, definitely not having his hopes up for his incompetent friends out there.

"You cannot say it until the game is over." Jisung said, making Minho want to snort even louder. "Yeah, sure, they're gonna find the keys and save us."

"Yeah maybe."

"Or they're gonna step into them and start crying thinking the keys are cursed somehow, even if it's all fiction." Minho stated disheartened.

"Seungmin won't think the keys are cursed." Jisung thought.

"Yeah, right, he's the one who's gonna make the others believe the keys are cursed." Minho corrected himself.

"He's a sadist, that's more likely." Jisung had to add, then he tried to move into that way too small closet, only to find out it was so narrow he couldn't actually move. "Do you think we're gonna die due to lack of oxygen?" Jisung asked, and he sounded so serious Minho was actually concerned about his mental state.

"Jisung, there are two holes right in front of us. It's a game, they're not gonna let us die."

"Yeah, yeah, I figured. Anyway, could you try to move backwards a bit? 'Cause my face is against the doors and I think I'm breathing dust."

"We're both breathing dust. And I have my back against this wall behind me and I don't know if you noticed, but they put hobnails on it, so I'm not having it better in here." Minho made him notice.

"This is hell."

"Technically, it's a psychiatric hospital."

After those words been said, they heard a scream, a very loud and guttural scream coming from outside. It was so intense and piercing that even Minho, who was usually immune to those kind of tricks only made to get people scared, sensed a shiver running through his spine.

"Was it one of our guys?" Jisung seemed alarmed.

"I don't think so. It must be recorded. A sound effect, something like that." Minho imagined.

"Minho."

"Yes?"

"Could you hug me?"

"What?"

"I don't know, back hug me, hold me, do something." Jisung said with a demanding and impatient voice.

"I mean: why?" Minho asked amused. "Are you scared?"

"Of course I am scared, you idiot, so you better hug me." His best friend was getting all flustered, and Minho decided to fulfill his wishes without Jisung saying no more. Taking advantage of the little space and their positions in that narrow closet, Minho surrounded Jisung's waist with his arms as he pulled him back to his chest, lightly resting his chin on the tiny spot between his neck and his actual shoulder, breathing in and out, as slow as possible, so Jisung could understand that he had nothing to be afraid of. Jisung reacted immediately at that touch he seemed to relax under the comforting presence of Minho.

"Better?" Minho asked with a smirk when Jisung finally let out a deep breath along with all the tension he had accumulated from the game. Jisung nodded, and Minho couldn't see it, but his eyes were closed as he was breathing, trying to distend his way too tensed nerves. Maybe his friends were right, maybe those kind of games affected him too much and that was why he always ended up screaming. Noticing he wasn't replying, Minho said nothing more. He kept quiet, caressing Jisung's hands which were now holding his in that no more uncomfortable position. They played with each other's hands, intertwining their fingers and the whole situation seemed a lot calmer in Jisung's eyes, so much he was even starting to ignore all those screams and those creepy sounds coming from outside of the closet in which they were locked. 

"Maybe you need new friends to play this game." Jisung said quietly, almost whispering.

"Maybe." Minho agreed, even if, with Jisung into his arms, he didn't care about the escape room anymore. On the contrary, he was glad his friends sucked at it, they indirectly gave him the chance to spend a few moments holding Jisung that night. It didn't matter how small that wardrobe was, it didn't matter how those hobnails were scratching his back to death, it didn't matter if he was progressively losing the use of his legs, stuck in that minimal space with zero possibilities to move them. They could have been on the top of the highest mountain of the world, in a lion cage, in a rocketship, even on the battlefield, holding Jisung in his arms made it feel like home.

He dared.

Still holding him tight, Minho rest his lips on Jisung's skin, on that empty spot at the back of his neck which seemed to be there for Minho to kiss it. At first, he did it once: a soft, gentle touch, then he stopped, looking carefully at Jisung's response. He didn't give him a huge reaction, but Minho heard him holding his breath for a few seconds.

Minho dared more.

He slid out of Jisung's grip and with his free hand he attentively reached the back of his neck, caressing that tender skin of his, making circles with his thumb on the spot where he imagined Jisung would have liked being kissed. He travelled with his hands through Jisung's thin neck, grinning satisfied when he stumbled on his Adam's apple and he noticed that the younger boy was swallowing dry, his breath getting heavier.

"Is it okay?" He asked, wanting to make sure Jisung was at ease with Minho touching him like that.

"It's okay." Jisung gave Minho his consent, so Minho's thumb felt the right to climb up from where it stopped until it reached Jisung's delicate lips. Minho rubbed his finger over them, hesitating a bit on them.

Jisung gasped when Minho kissed the back of his neck again, and the latter took advantage of that to slide his finger into his best friend's mouth. He didn't know what he was doing, he had no idea about what he was doing, but he tried not to think about it too much. So he was there, rubbed on Jisung's back, kissing his neck where he could from that position, with his index finger into the younger's mouth. Jisung startled, a little surprised, but he didn't push Minho away. So Minho went on, going from small kisses to deep ones all over Jisung's skin, lingering on the most sensitive spots, biting him lightly, then immediately making up for it licking those temporary scars, using his tongue as a remedy and then sucking it all away. Minho was torturing his neck and Jisung was allowing him to, tossing his head back on the older's shoulder, trying to assure him a wider radius of action. Minho was now completely hostage of those hobnails behind his back which were almost hurting, but the sound of Jisung breathing so heavily, the warm presence of Jisung's mouth around his fingers sucking those as Minho kissed his neck harder and deeper, the sound of his muffled whines, the excitement in hearing his friend moaning so desperately for the first time, still holding himself back, trying not being too loud, everything from that aphrodisiac experience made Minho numb and forgetful of those sharp nails behind him. It was a mess in there, Minho started feeling so hot he wished the closet could magically get bigger. While he was still paying full attention to Jisung's skin under his lips, Minho could feel his friend's saliva falling from his fingers. Jisung tried resting his head back even more, greedy for Minho's touch, avid for the lustful sensation of his lips on his sensitive body, yearning for the lecherous urge of feeling more of it, of living more of it. That's why he spontaneously leaned back, his back closer to Minho's chest, no more space between their bodies left. And Minho heard it. Minho heard it when he was plunging his lips into Jisung's skin, he heard it when he was kissing him so roughly, it wasn't a mystery why his heart was bouncing into his own chest or why Jisung was barely breathing, having so many difficulties at simply inhaling. The once pure air of that claustrophobic closet was now being corrupted by those electrifying and intoxicating noises, and so Minho heard it: the most beautiful of them all.

"Minho." Jisung moaned his name as if he was begging for his lips not to leave his skin, making his head spinning so much he was glad he didn't even have space for falling on the ground.

Then the disaster.

The absolute disaster he should have seen coming. Minho abruptly stopped kissing Jisung and Jisung suddenly stopped doing whatever he was doing. All those heavenly sounds were gone, leaving the spotlights to an extremely awkward silence, but Jisung was the first one to break it.

"Minho." It was different now, his name pronounced by Jisung. It felt embarrassing. Minho didn't say anything back. "I have something on my ass." He stated and Minho closed his eyes, strongly desiring to disappear, wishing the ground underneath could open so a dark and obscure ravine could swallow him alive.

"And so?" He tried to hide it, but he knew too well why Jisung was saying such a thing.

"And so... I think it's something yours."

A boner.

A dream. No, that was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. Getting turned on over a not even proper make out session in a closet. How humiliating was that? Was Minho suddenly fifteen again? Were his hormones on their way of losing their pride?

"Jisung, I'm so sorry." Minho whispered completely blown away because of that accident which weighed on his dignity like a death sentence. Minho could almost hear the sound of a funeral march playing in the background. Maybe someone out there was already digging his grave.

Jisung was about to respond, but he had been suddenly interrupted by the clink of the keys getting their way into the lock door. Now, every kind of clarification between those two had been postponed to a future date. Fantastic. Minho could not explain himself and his best friend would have believed he was a weirdo, a creep, or something. Nice serve, that was exactly what Minho needed in his life.

"Guys!" Felix opened the door, a cheerful expression lighting up his face. "I guess we won!"

"We won?" Minho asked, trying not to think about the previous tragic event. "How?"

"One of the guys of the staff!"

"What?" Jisung wanted him to speak.

"The guy in the last room, for the final question, he had a stomachache and we won!" Felix claimed enthusiastic. "C'mon! Get out of here!" He said and both of them felt their muscles collapsing, not feeling their legs anymore.

"We won by forfeit." Minho noticed disappointed.

"And so? They're still gonna pay for our dinner!" Felix said before walking away, inviting them to follow him and reach for the others. Minho wasn't so excited about the idea of winning 'cause a guy got ill, but sure he was now able to avoid Jisung's gaze more easily. And that's what he did, during their whole shared dinner at the fast food promoted by the Escape Room. He let his other friends speak for the entire time, letting them updating him and Jisung about how the game went on while they were serving their punishment. Basically, if the guy hadn't eaten raw tomatoes which then caused him a really bad acid reflux, they would have not even seen the familiar neon lights which were decorating the junk food place they were at. Minho could laugh, listen, and forget for a moment what had happened inside that closet with Jisung, for a moment was the right amount of time. Too bad a moment doesn't last long.

Before he could even realize it, they were out, all of them about to go home.

"What happened in there?" Changbin said out loud and Minho almost screamed out of terror.

"How do you know?" Minho replied terrified.

"I didn't, but I do know now." Changbin laughed, as if was giving himself so much credit for being so smart. "However, you two are acting weird, so I thought it was implicit something had happened. I'm not a psychic or something." He reassured Minho, but it felt like he was actually making fun of him.

Minho was about to slap himself in the face, but he dropped the idea when the rest of their group joined them outside, Jisung included.

"I guess I gotta go. Good night people!" Minho mumbled a bit while speaking, rushing to reach his car, parked exactly on the other side of the street. He didn't even look at Jisung in the eyes. He gave everyone a quick greeting and he crossed the street, finally safe, ready to get into his car and drive home. Far away from the agony of the misunderstandings. But life's full of surprises.

"Minho."

"Oh God! When did you learn how to walk so quietly?" Minho jumped when he heard none other than Jisung talking behind his back.

"I'm a multitasking man." He bragged full of himself.

"Yeah, I thought so Pink Panter." Minho's hand were now shaking as he was missing multiple times the car lock with his keys. "What do you want?" He asked him, using all of his power not to sound nervous. Maybe he was there to talk. Maybe he was there to tell him that was inappropriate and they should have cut that thing. Maybe.

"I need a ride home." Jisung said, a shiny light was gleaming into his eyes.

Minho didn't get it. A ride home? With everything that happened he just needed a ride home? Sure, Minho could had handled a ride home. Or maybe not. Or maybe that was an excuse to confront each other on the latest matter. Maybe.

"Yeah, sure. Hop on." Minho said casually, still fighting against the tremble in his hand which was separating him from opening the damn car. He felt so extremely agitated, lost in his own world of disgraceful embarrassment, he didn't even sense Jisung walking to him. He only noticed him, once he was strangely getting closer right behind him. "Jisung, what are you doing?" Minho said interrogative, questioning what was up with his friend's mind. He felt Jisung's fingers, suspiciously travelling along his back, causing Minho chills. Then Jisung hugged him, tight, the way Minho was hugging him in that troubled closet. Minho had completely given up on getting the keys into the car lock, he was just standing, completely petrified, looking like a fool under Jisung's spell.

"I need a ride home." Jisung worded again, whispering into his right ear, now his hands were taking a trip on Minho's chest, going more and more southern, dangerously close to crossing the still respectable borders on that foreign land which Minho's body was.

And Minho didn't know how they ended up like that. He was trying to think clearly about which actions had led to what they were doing in that particular moment, which words had made that little light sparkle, which decisions from the closet event to the current one had started a fire which was consuming its flames right there in the back sits of Minho's car. Jisung didn't need a ride home, Minho had come to realization. Or at least, he didn't need just a ride home. He had been quiet, after that eloquent speech before Minho could even open the doors, he had stayed quiet for so long Minho had started thinking he had imagined the whole thing and Jisung hadn't even touched his chest so eagerly, right before getting in, sending him cryptic signals. But that silence, it wasn't like Jisung was embarrassed or mad or any other of these simple emotions. The spectrum of that profound silence was more complicated than that. It was calculated, that silence had a purpose, a meaning.

He realized that from the instant in which Jisung had cheekily squeezed with no warnings his thigh, making Minho almost run the red because of his unexpected behaviour. Minho had been fast, asking Jisung what he was doing, which his intentions were, if something was wrong, if anything was bothering him, but Jisung did nothing but keep giving him that odd silent treatment. And Minho could have ignored his unusual attitude, Jisung kind of had the habit to cloud over sometimes, but he wasn't clouding over, he was scheming, he was plotting against him, he was up to something, but Minho didn't know. Until he went for a more direct approach. That was when Minho was forced to park somewhere and get his hands off the wheel, since he was quite sure it was illegal, and surely considered a menace to society, to keep driving while someone was so shamelessly palming his crotch from the fabric of his jeans, without any regard for public safety. He didn't even try to hide how quickly his breath hitched in his throat. He didn't even try to hide how he was struggling against the need of letting out those heavy and irregular and weary stifled squeals, while his body was all shivers because of one single hand which wasn't even touching him properly. He didn't even have time to feel ashamed for his reaction that his noticeable hard on consistently appeared in front of his eyes and under Jisung's touch, after a few strokes only. It was devastating feeling it suffer against the tight hold of that unbearable cloth. The more Jisung pressed hardly on Minho's weakest spot, the more he felt it growing and twitching, and Minho could not help but raise up his hips, just a bit, searching for a better friction, but secretly wishing Jisung could stop teasing him for nothing. Minho, with his eyes shut and his lost pride, didn't even notice how starving Jisung seemed while looking at him, how his dilated pupils were filled with anticipation and only reflecting the moaning mess they were staring at. His ears were completely drown into those light whimpers which he had never heard coming from Minho before and somehow, he didn't want him to hold himself back, he wanted to hear him, listen to those new and exciting sounds. For the first time since they had met, Jisung could not do anything but find his best friend overly attractive. In a definitely not platonic way.

That's how Minho ended up following Jisung in the back sits of his own car, significantly more comfortable than the front sits, his pants on the floor, his belt forgotten somewhere, having Jisung on his knees right in front of him, leaving wet kisses all the way from his inner thigh to his freed cock, producing ones of the most obscene noises Minho had ever heard. The filthy, but somehow cathartic, sound of Jisung's mouth noisily sucking his dick, how he stopped to take a breath, hardly breathing against the top of its head, then coming back to embrace it between his lips, while his hands were running free, causing Minho more and more pleasure every time his tongue danced along the entirety of his length. Minho had no idea where Jisung had learnt, he had no idea why Jisung was blowing him of his own free will. But Minho lost it when the top of his cock touched the back of Jisung's mouth, he was thrilling in excitement moving his hips forward even if by now Jisung had basically gone further than every guy who had ever sucked Minho off. He heard him choking a little, so a bit worried, he forced himself to look down and he couldn't believe what his own eyes were seeing. Jisung was tilting his head, trying to take it deeper into his mouth, pushing his need for air aside. Minho was astonished, dazed, completely dumbfounded by Jisung's performance and critical beauty even in a situation like that. He must have sensed Minho's eyes on him, because Jisung dared to look up, meeting his lusting gaze with Minho's one. Minho almost screamed out of the adrenaline that simple stare infused into his veins; he had never seen Jisung looking at him like that, he had never thought Jisung, the naive and sometimes childish Jisung, could turn him into a devastated, trembling and soulless shaking body. Minho groaned, maybe louder than he thought, feeling himself closer to his edge. Jisung used one of his hand to reach Minho's one, leading it to his hair, his soft hair that Minho grabbed as Jisung wanted him to. He heard him humming something against his overly stimulated cock, but he couldn't get a thing. Jisung was now gesturing something, but Minho's sight was blurred, intoxicated by one of the greatest pleasures of his life.

Then he understood what he needed from him. Jisung blew him, sucking him harder than before, and Minho's dick was almost completely absorbed into his friend's mouth, so, with Jisung's hair in his hand, Minho pulled it and looking at him, he heard him moan indecently with Minho's cock between his lips. Groaning even more as Minho pulled stronger. Minho couldn't breathe, it was addictive, everything was addictive, Jisung was addictive. He wished it never stopped, but he was reaching his maximum. He wasn't going to last any longer.

"Jisung." Minho found it difficult even to word his name, trying to speak, ignoring his body torn by what seemed surges of electricity. "I'm close." He breathed out, but Jisung didn't seem to let it go. "Jisung, please." Minho said desperate, he didn't even know what he was begging for. Other moans filling the by now nasty air into that car cubicle which had witnessed definitely too much for its own liking.

Minho was coming, he felt it. He felt the orgasm reaching him. Jisung, though, kept it up. "Jisung. God, Jisung." Minho tried again, but it was useless. And it was time, so he closed his eyes, his expression modelled on an intense leisure he had never felt before. He shivered, through that deep and strong pleasure, until his body hadn't been drained of every single and unique sensation he had felt throughout that metaphysical experience. Chills destroying him, until he had turned into nothing but an empty shell.

He was shattered, smashed, ruined, wrecked, lifeless. Jisung had destroyed him, he had completely crushed him.

"This feels like my dream." Minho murmured, utterly devastated, his strength blown away, while he was getting his pants back on.

"What?" Jisung's face suddenly popped up into Minho's view. He didn't seem tired, he was glowing actually. Minho thought he looked beautiful.

No, he didn't look beautiful, he was beautiful.

"What did you say? I didn't hear you I was busy swallowing." Jisung smiled so innocently while talking obscenities. Minho's head started spinning again.

"You swallowed it." Minho said, his mind incapable of formulating more complex thoughts. "Wow." He stated tossing his head back. "Where did you learn this?"

"I didn't. You can't learn talent." Jisung claimed cocky and Minho wanted so bad to kiss him. So he went for it. He kissed him, sneaking his tongue into Jisung's mouth, pulling him closer. It tasted different, Minho noticed.

"What are you doing?" Jisung pulled himself back. "I just went down on you, I swallowed your cum." He laughed.

"I don't care." Minho laughed too, suddenly feeling a tingle inside his chest.

"Disgusting. How does it taste to you?" Jisung asked.

"Heaven. It tastes like heaven." Minho smiled happily.

"I wouldn't say so, but it's your sperm, not mine."

"What? You're saying it's bad?" Minho pretended to be offended.

"I'm just being honest Min! It's really... Fuck! Has it always been this small in here?" Jisung screamed after hitting his head on the roof of the car. Minho burst into laughter. He was unbelievable.

"Do you, I mean, do you want me to...?" Minho proposed meditating on returning the favour. "Oh, no, no. It was my pleasure." Jisung smirked and Minho pushed him away in response, hoping he wouldn't see him blushing.

"We should go home now."

"But can you drive?" Jisung asked.

"In a few minutes. You're good, not the best." Minho mocked him.

"What? Why? Is out there someone better than me at this? For real?" Jisung seemed outraged.

Minho rolled his eyes.

He was so dramatic.

Minho drove him home, finally. Then he drove himself home. He tried everything: tea, herbal tea, chamomile. That annoying tingle prickling inside his chest? It wasn't going anywhere. 

However, after that practical demonstration Jisung had gave Minho, the latter knew now where their boundaries stood, and the answer was: anywhere. Since, apparently, there was nothing Jisung wasn't willing to try with Minho and he couldn't complain, he wasn't going to. All at their own pace, or probably Jisung's pace, since Minho was usually okay with everything Jisung suggested and he didn't feel comfortable with him being the one proposing certain things to Jisung, not because he didn't want to, simply he cared about Jisung not feeling pressured since Minho knew about his lack of experience. But, everytime they got involved with some action, Jisung seemed more capable of it than he thought he would have been. And yes, Minho knew Jisung had a girlfriend and that probably required him getting more skilled, but he couldn't believe he was just a starter. Maybe he was a fast learner. That was the only possible explanation. Good for him, Minho thought, and good for me, he added. And he wasn't jealous, at all. Minho was actually glad how things were going so far. He was scared it would have been a risk, he was scared he was going to get inevitably hurt, but no, he wasn't going to go through all of that, simply because he was in charge of his own feelings, he was capable of taking his reactions and his emotions under control. He knew that was just pure friendship, he knew nothing could ever happen between them, he knew stupid sentimentalism did represent nothing but troubles for their relationship and Minho had learnt how to push that sentimentality of his aside. For his own sake, for Jisung's sake, for their friendship's sake. Maybe, this all friends with benefits dynamic was all Minho needed to finally get over him, maybe the physical intimacy along with the clear limits build up in order to avoid a romantic involvement were the key to his long waited redemption. Somehow, he was getting closer to his own Independence Day, he was truly changing and his heart too. The liberation was right around the corner. Minho could feel it.

Although, if there was something Minho was bad at, that was geography since he had zero sense of orientation. So even if his guts were telling him a safe shore was not that far from where he was, sailing that stormy sea, the compass and his map were probably trying to tell him that what he had mistaken for a harmless island was actually the frightening den of a sanguinary and murderous kraken. Minho, the optimistic and lighthearted sailor, couldn't tell damnation and salvation apart. Unwary of the risks, witlessly thinking the worst was already gone. Nonetheless, when everything seems quiet, the mermaids start singing. Minho didn't know that.

"What are you doing behind that door, guys?" 

"Chan, shut your voice down! Why the fuck are you screaming? Don't you see we have something going on here?"

"What?"

Seungmin dragged Chan down, who had just shown up behind their back as they had all found themselves unable to walk in the empty classroom on the first floor they used to meet up when the canteen was too crowded.

"What are you doing? Are you spying someone?" Chan whispered, even if he was actually bothered at the way Seungmin had crumpled his shirt while he was forcing him not to walk any further. That kid didn't know how much willpower was needed to iron a linen shirt right. Ungrateful bastard. "Someone is arguing?" Chan noticed when he heard somebody screaming, a few steps away from there, but he couldn't see anything, obviously, the door was closed.

"It's Jisung. He is fighting with his girlfriend again." Felix let him know as he was pressing his ear onto the thin walls.

"So you're not walking in, 'cause Jisung is there?"

"No, we're not walking in 'cause we don't want to interrupt them." Felix explained.

"But we're not going anywhere 'cause we wanna know what's going on." Changbin clarified.

"Minho, what do you think about this?"

Well, well, well.

In Minho's defence. He hadn't been the first one getting there. When they all stated they were going to meet up, and when Minho finally reached the right hallway, he couldn't know he would have found Changbin attentively trying to overhear Jisung and his girlfriend having an argument through the door. In fact, Minho had scolded Changbin, telling him they weren't the guys who had the habit to overstep their friends' privacy and Minho was, indeed, the one who told Changbin he wasn't going to play his game that's why, as an adult, he was going to walk away, leaving Jisung and his partner some space. But Minho's good intentions went to trash in the moment in which he heard Jisung's girlfriend insinuating he was cheating on her, which was true for some aspects, untrue because of others. So he got on Changbin's level, literally, since he sat with him on the floor, and he spied. Then Felix came, Seungmin arrived, and in a matter of seconds, they were all trying to listen what those two were saying to each other. 

"So?" Chan said again.

Minho was about to defend himself, but when a frustrated scream broke in, suddenly, even Chan had his ear against the wall, attempting to hear some.

"Jisung it's tiring trying to deal with you!" The girl had raised her voice. "First, you're the one calling me out, saying I'm not giving you enough attentions, and you were right sure, but now! It's like you're ghosting me or something!"

"It happened just once, just once. I didn't even do it on purpose!" Minho could sense Jisung getting hysterical.

"What is it about?" Chan whispered, legit confused, but he got shushed as soon as he opened he talked, by a way too caught up Seungmin.

"It was a charity event Jisung, it was charity! You knew how important that was for my CV resume, you said you were going to be there, with me, I organized the whole thing, you had to stand by me, you promised!"

"Snails, babe! You were making people sign checks for snails! I don't think that's how it works." Jisung snapped and all his friends hidden behind the door shared confused looks with each other.

"We cannot eat living beings Jisung! It works for snails too!"

"And that's great how passionate you are about something so important and progressive for our environment, but go do that where people actually eat snails, like France." They heard Jisung snorting.

"Where were you?" His girlfriend said on the verge of tears. 

"What?"

"Where were you? Yesterday, six p.m."

Minho was glad, everyone was paying attention to the words which were being spoken behind those walls, so no one of his friends could see the expression he had made, when he had heard Jisung's girlfriend pointing out the time. Minho knew exactly, where Jisung was. Obviously, he knew nothing about the charity event, Jisung hadn't even told him, so, he wasn't feeling that guilty.

"I told you, I was so tired I fell asleep."

On Minho's dick, with his mouth open.

"I don't believe you." She had said harshly.

"Babe! You have to believe me! I would never miss something so memorable to you. It just happened. You know I'm mad busy with classes lately."

Yeah, sure.

"I don't know."

"Please." Jisung tried to convince her.

"I want to believe you, puppy."

Puppy? Outrageously disgusting.

"Then do it!"

"But... I have to think about it." She had said with such a melodramatic voice, Minho was about to throw up his intestines out of his body.

"What do you mean?" Jisung seemed scared.

"I think we need a break."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"I said: we need to take a break, and please, don't make this harder than it is already." Then she was crying, a little bit dramatic, Minho thought, and when they heard her steps getting dangerously close to the door, they called a withdrawal and they all ran away and somehow, everybody pretended to know nothing, when a destroyed Jisung, brought what had happened up later that day.

A choir of pats on Jisung's shoulder sang for him, trying to cheer him up, but he seemed strangely upset, too upset, for being someone who hadn't even thought twice before starting cheating on her, because, yes, Minho was just a friend, but he wasn't sure fooling around with friends was allowed in a, theoretically, exclusive relationship. However, it felt like Jisung had lost his sparkle. Excessively immersed into the current drama of his love life, he wasn't even talking that much, nor at university nor when they hanged out at Chan's house. And everytime they tried to talk about it, trying to understand why Jisung was so touched by how things went, he always shrugged it off, telling them they were reading too much into it, and he was actually doing fine. It was clear that was a lie. Jisung wasn't the same and that was reflecting itself even on his lack of physical needs. Bored kissed, that was all Jisung was up to lately. But Minho wasn't there for that only, he was his friend before he was anything else. He couldn't stand such a lifeless Jisung, he wasn't the guy he knew, sure he had his ups and downs, like everyone else in this mortal world of sufferings, but that, specifically, wasn't Jisung. So Minho thought it would have been a good idea taking him out, just the two of them, trying to create a safe space and a comfortable place for him to finally let his feelings out on the matter. Just a night out, between two good friends. Minho was doing it for Jisung, and that was completely separated from his own agenda. He just wanted his friend to shine again.

"We're going out tonight." Minho had called his friend, not accepting a negative answer.

"I don't know, man. I gotta study and all." Jisung tried to resist.

"Studying? At night? You really tried to fool me with such a bullshit? Me? Your best friend? I should believe that you're going to study, at night?" Minho felt offended.

"Where are we all going?" Jisung gave in to the older.

"It's just you and me actually."

"Like the good old days." Jisung pointed out.

"Is that a yes?" Minho was hopeful.

"I'll be ready around eight." Jisung stated before hanging up.

Minho's plan was going to work. He was a good friend, he thought, Jisung should have considered himself lucky to have him. He was coming to rescue his best friend from the dark forest he had got himself into. 

He was a good friend.

A friend. He kept telling himself.

And that tingle inside his chest? Irrelevant.

Minho was doing great so far, but the destiny of the human race couldn't fall far from that temptation which had condemned them to live a life of indescribable pain, since the beginning of time.

Minho strongly believed it was harmless and meaningless to spray his cologne twice. He wasn't doing it for any particular reason, he just wanted to feel clean until the end of the night and since, it was quite predictable that their choice of dinner was going into the McDonald's direction, he had to do something to keep sure that fried smell wasn't going to threat him. Even when he randomly choose his best shirt out of his twelve ones which still fit in, even when he had brushed his teeth three times, even when he accidentally decided to dare with a different hairstyle, pushing his hair back, letting his forehead finally breathe the fresh air of daylight, even if it was actually dark outside. Even then, he didn't consider their encounter as anything far from a simple and unselfish night out between pals. And with that rising spirit, he fired up the engine, ready to distract his best friend from his personal tragedy.

When they met, a few blocks from the nearest fast food, Minho was genuinely surprised when he noticed he wasn't the only one who had spent maybe more than ten minutes getting ready for that innocent meeting. Not that Jisung had shown up in a tuxedo, a suit or with a golden bow surrounding his head, but somehow, Minho found Jisung suspiciously good looking, not the usual good looking Jisung, who didn't even try, Minho just knew Jisung had really treasured the time he had to make himself look gorgeous. "What are you looking at?" Jisung had played around. Minho laughed.

"You're the one who started staring." He replied.

"I did, 'cause you look strangely hot tonight, Min." Jisung appreciated and Minho recurred to all his strength not to take that insignificant praise too seriously.

"I see, Seungmin is right." Minho said then.

"What? What does Seungmin say?" Jisung rushed following as soon as Minho started walking in the direction of the capitalistic fast food chain where their fancy dinner was going to take place.

"That you're going nuts." Minho smiled when Jisung started overreacting, muttering something, indignant, behind him.

Jisung seemed fine, through the whole night, for a guy who had been bailed out not even a few days ago. Minho avoided bringing up his sink relationship and their conversation took a completely separate way. Aliens, the myth of the Loch Ness monster, the conspiracy theories, why the Illuminati and the Church shared the same triangle symbol based on the importance of the Holy Trinity, what was the meaning of life and why McDonald's employees kept putting cucumbers inside Minho's cheeseburger even if he had told them, several times, he didn't appreciate cucumbers in his burger. That's what they talked about, and from an outside look, they looked like perfectly normal friends, and that was what they were. Even if, Jisung oddly tensed up when Minho got closer to his face, only to rub off with a tissue a ketchup stain, right on the corner of his mouth. Minho did notice how he had stopped breathing for a few seconds, maybe worried, wondering if he was about to kiss him in public, but no. Minho had no intention of turning that friendly dinner in something else. It wouldn't have been right. Not that night. Not after Jisung being dumped by his girlfriend. Even though, there was surely some unspoken tension at their table, but Minho could not understand where that was coming from, but he could sense it every time their hands casually touched while they were both reaching for the shared can of coke. Anyway, weird sparks aside, everything was going alright and after having a bite of those delicious meals, which didn't taste like fried plastic at all, they decided it was time to leave the McDonald's and wandering somewhere else, waiting for the night to be over. And when Minho left Jisung for a few minutes, in a need for the toilet which he had found extremely clean to be fast food ones, he surely didn't expect what was disgracefully coming next. His hands had been barely washed, when, coming out of the bathroom, Minho felt someone aggressively grabbing his arm. At first, Minho thought he was being kidnapped, but being kidnapped in a fast food full of people, wasn't that likely and not the smartest move from a serial kidnapper, so he had to look up only once to see the face of his aggressor and understand who he was.

"Jisung, what the fuck?" Minho had screamed, unconcerned about the little kids around him. Jisung was dragging him along his frenetic run.

"We have to get out of here, man. And run, run the furthest we can from here." He affirmed sounding distressed. Minho had left him alone for a few minutes, only a few minutes. What had he done?

"Jisung what are we running from? Can I at least being informed about this?" He asked while they were running down the stairs of the huge building.

"Do you remember when I told you I wanted the Happy Meal? For the little toy, but I didn't have the guts to order one for myself since I am a nineteen years old?" Jisung said, his strong grip still on Minho.

"Yeah? I thought you were stupid." Minho did remember.

"Well! I stole someone else's toy." Jisung claimed, and Minho detected no shame in his voice.

"You did what?" Minho was utterly shocked, but it all made sense when, looking at Jisung's other hand, he spotted a small action figure of some kids cartoon's character. "Did you steal from a child? That's why we're running?"

"Are you dumb? We're not running away because of that!" Jisung told him.

"Then explain!" Minho replied, strained already. He had never been an athlete, so.

"Let's say, I stole from the wrong kid."

"Why?" Minho asked, wondering why those stairs seemed endless now that they were rushing to get out of there.

"Last week I sort of committed a crime."

"What do you mean? What did you do?"

"My dad called, he wanted me to get rid of his old car. He had left it with the keys in outside our house, I did remember the model so I didn't check the number plate, okay? Are you following me?"

"Jisung, please, just talk." Minho was genuinely scared of what he was going to confess.

"Apparently there were two identical cars in the courtyard, my dad's one and the mailman's one. The man had left his keys in there, so, let's just say I took the wrong car to the wrecking yard, okay?"

Minho couldn't believe his words. His hearing must have been broken, because there was no way he had heard it right.

"And what about the toy?" Minho had no hope left.

"It was the mailman's son's toy. He was after me and I don't know where he is now. Damn!" Jisung sweared as they were finally overcoming the fast food's entrance.

There wasn't space for Minho's evident disappointment, so he limited himself to look up at the sky, asking to the gods above why was he so attracted to a fool like the one he was escaping with right now. They kept running from one block to another, basically using all the strength they had in store, until they finally reached Minho's car, but when the owner of the vehicle suggested to bring Jisung home, the latter started a scene about how he couldn't go home, not now, since the mailman knew his address and he wasn't going to come back there until the clock hands hadn't assured him a few hours had passed and it was completely safe to return. Minho wanted to disagree, since he thought the mailman wasn't a rancorous type, at least not that much to track Jisung down and assault him right in front of his house, but he didn't want to discuss with a crazy Jisung that night, so he took the opposite road. "Where are we going? It's far from the city." Jisung noticed when the artificial lights started fading away and the streets started getting smaller. "Trust me, Jisung, I don't wanna murder you."

In fact, Minho didn't want to kill Jisung and hide his dead body into the woods. On the contrary, from the moment in which Jisung had started blathering about escaping without leaving any trace of himself behind, Minho had thought of one place, which wasn't really that out of hand, but it was far enough to look like a completely different world. And, disclaimer, Minho didn't think it was romantic at all. Even if, an empty seaside, with a fragile pale moon reflecting itself on the weak waves of the low tide, while the shore was completely drown into the peaceful and mysteriously beautiful sound of silence, for sure, hid something intrinsically and inherently evocative.

"Are you sure this isn't planned and you don't wanna slice my throat or something?" Jisung asked when he saw Minho taking a beach towel from the trunk.

"I just come here often." Minho said.

"For real?"

"Nope, but I had this inside my car, for emergency, you know." He explained. "Follow me." He added and they both reached the shore, closer to the actual sea. It was a quiet night, it wasn't that windy, it felt perfectly summery somehow. Minho spread the towel on the sand, then he gestured Jisung to sit down, right beside him. That place would have been basically deserted, if it hadn't been for the weak street lights a little far away from there, where Minho's car was parked, he would have sworn that beach had been abandoned by the mankind. Then he realized, that deep bleakness might have been normal, since it had been a long working day for everyone else, in the middle of the week. He lay down, resting his head on the thin towel, his hands intertwined on his chest, as if he was about to pray, looking up at the starry dark sky which was radiating an unusual power that night, or maybe it was just the fact that Minho wasn't used to such a clear view on the stars, which were always covered by layers and layers of electric lamps, even when he was staring at them from Jisung's upper balcony. He had never seen them so clearly. He was so concentrated on those distant celestial bodies, that he hadn't noticed Jisung laying down on the towel as well. So, Minho did remember his initial plan.

"You're being quiet." Minho's voice seemed echoing into that shallow stillness.

"You're also not talking, Minho." Jisung pointed out. Both of them having their eyes drawn to the skyline above.

"You're not being quiet just now, I mean, you've been quiet lately."

Minho heard Jisung sighing.

"Yeah, that makes a lot more of sense."

"And so? Do you wanna talk about that?"

"About what?" Jisung was being oblivious.

"Jisung, how are you doing?" Minho went straight to the point.

"How am I doing? Well, overall not that bad, but there's this class that I'm quite sure I'm gonna fail, and I'll tell you why: this professor? Kind of hates me. Two days ago he got mad at my shoes, at first I thought he was judging my sense of fashion, so I got mad too and I told him I didn't like his moustache which made him look like a bald version of Heidi's grandpa. But then, I found out he didn't dislike my shoes, he was just angry since I had stepped into the mud and I was turning his class into this shithole, and then..."

"Jisung, I said: how are you doing?" Minho interrupted his best friend's non sense.

"I knew it."

"What?"

"This was a trap, you had this whole thing organized, hadn't you?" Jisung was connecting the dots after all, but Minho still acted clueless. "A trap? What are you even saying?"

"You called me, you said it was gonna be just the two of us, and you know that when it's just the two of us, I usually talk, like, when I confessed I was the one who had broke Felix's play station. So, just like I said, you called me, you made me feel like home, inside the four walls of an unhygienic fast food, then, with your mind's powers you made me steal that kid's toy."

"I didn't do that." Minho clarified.

"Just, let me finish. Anyway, you made a thief out of me and then you brought me here, making me feel all comfy and cozy on this flowery pattern towel, so you could mind my business, without feeling guilty. Isn't it? Tell me this is not what happened." Jisung's words could seem mean, but Minho knew he was joking, that's why he put his hands in the air, declaring himself convicted. 

"See? Sherlock Holmes took that observation spirit and that sharp logic deduction from me. I was the one who originally inspired Conan Doyle's works." He said all high and mighty.

"As if you hadn't been the one thinking Sherlock Holmes's books were autobiographical." Minho ended his silly enthusiasm right there.

"I thought he was real! They told me he had a home in London!" Jisung justified himself. Minho didn't do anything but making a tsk sound as a form of disapproval.

"C'mon, what do you wanna ask?" Jisung got back the focus of the conversation. "Is it about her? Do you wanna make me recall that humiliating path?"

"Why humiliating?" Minho didn't even try to hide the fact that he wanted Jisung to talk about her.

"Minho, I've been dumped."

"Not completely." Minho underlined.

"But more or less." Jisung replied.

"I just don't understand." Minho said, now turning to Jisung, leaving the stargazing behind.

"You don't understand what?" Jisung asked for explanations, his eyes still following the slow movement of the few black clouds blown away by the tenuous wind.

"I don't understand why you seem so upset." 

"I got dumped, Minho. I think it's normal to feel upset." Jisung made a point.

"Yeah, but... okay, let me word this differently." He said, before switching to a seated position. So Jisung couldn't help, but look at him, when Minho's face appeared within his visual range. "I don't know if I'm allowed to say it, but since I found myself in this weird position, I feel like I have to ask."

"Shoot your shot, man."

"First of all, I know this is nothing, and by this I mean us, I know we're friends and it stops there, but my question is: how can you be so upset about this sort of break up? I mean, what we do, this means nothing, but I don't think she would be cool with it, if she knew. I'm not judging Jisung, but how can you be so distressed about someone calling for a break with you, if you were already kind of cheating on this someone? At least, physically." Minho tried to explain himself even if he was afraid Jisung could misunderstand.

"What do you wanna know, Min? If I like her? Why I'm hooking up with you sometimes if I like her?"

"Sometimes?"

"Often." Jisung corrected himself.

"Yes, Jisung. Are you feeling down, 'cause you found out you like her more than you thought? That you love her?" 

"I've always liked her. I told you I do. I mean she's nice and all and I enjoy her company, but this is beyond me liking her." Jisung closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "And this is probably gonna sound stupid, but please, don't judge me."

"You know I won't." Minho was a man of his word. Kind of.

"I do not love her, okay? And I don't think that's bad, 'cause I wanted to give it a try anyway. I mean, I don't think you gotta date someone only at the point where you love them, it's a just a college relationship after all." Jisung started. "But, I gotta say, this has been probably my longest relationship ever Minho and this meant a lot. It was groundbreaking for someone like me. Like, think about it, think about me over a year ago. I was lonely I couldn't even make friends, everything seemed so difficult, but then things changed. Maybe I changed, but for the best, and when she bumped into my life, I thought that finally things were coming to pieces, I wasn't that high school freak anymore, I was finally just a guy, a normal guy, with friends and even a girlfriend. Clearly a blessing, so I wanted this to work. Even if I didn't like her that much at first, when she showed interest towards me, I believed I could have grown to like her at some point, I couldn't let her go away from me. She made me feel appreciated, she made me feel normal. I was finally doing what guys my age do and it felt comforting somehow. So I couldn't fail her." Jisung's voice turned into a serious tone now. "I couldn't fail her like I continuously fail classes, I couldn't fail her like I fail my mother whenever she realizes I'm not the brilliant and extrovert child she thought I would have been. I even introduced her to my dad, I probably told you about it. I mean, I didn't want to, but that day, the chances wanted my father to come home sooner, which never happens by the way and she was with me and I had to let my father knew who she was. It was awkward at first, but when she went away and I was heading to my room, did you know what my father said?"

Minho didn't talk, he just let him continue with a nod.

"He patted me on my shoulder and he said: nice. And I know this doesn't seem like a lot, but it was a lot to me, and I guess, for the first time, I didn't feel like I was a waste of space in my own house. Somehow, that night, I went to sleep lighthearted, like this huge buffalo had finally moved away from my chest to some new undiscovered lands. So I thought it was cool to finally have someone, to finally get that approval from my dad, to finally feel like an ordinary boy who wasn't alone anymore. But then that night, when I found out she didn't even talk about me to others, when we discussed and all and I didn't know what to do and then a few days ago. When she said she needed a break, from what? I do understand I may not be in love with her, Min. I don't think I am, I don't know if I'm ever gonna be in love with her at some point, but I came to the realization that I need her to love me." Jisung said and there was something so miserably sad and personal in the way he was expressing himself that Minho didn't even feel like he was allowed to have a say on it.

"And I know this might sound selfish, or stupid or borderline egotistical, but there's a sweet sense of security and certainty, in knowing she loves me, and I don't want to lose this, I don't wanna fail. I don't wanna be the failure I am, is it that bad? Is it bad wanting to be the way others expect you to be? Is it that bad that I want to fit in? Is it that bad that I don't wanna be a failure anymore? And I'm trying, but all I do is letting people down and every time I wake up it feels like I'm stuck into the ice cold depth of the sea, desperatly grasping for a life vest, and I try not to think about it Min, but I'm drowning and sometimes it feels like my lungs are about to explode." He stuttered, pronouncing the last words he was saying. Jisung was still laying down, looking at the constellations of stars up there, and Minho, who was looking down at him, could see, even in the gloom of the dark, an almost imperceptible tear, pouring down from the corner of his eye, reaching the ground, then disappearing, hiding itself in the great void it had let behind. But Jisung was fast to push those feelings back inside, not letting those tears threat his face.

Minho wanted to talk. He wished he could erase that desolation from his look, he wished he could tell him how great his value was. He wanted to love him, he wanted to give him security, he was the one in love with him. But some things are better left unsaid.

"You're not a failure, what are you even saying? How can you even think you are one? This is insane, you don't owe anything to anybody, you... you're good the way you are." Minho tried to tell him, but the younger wasn't listening, that's why Minho made him, lightly resting his hand on the other's cheek, so, caught out of guard because of the sudden touch, Jisung looked away from the sky above to meet his gaze with Minho's one. Minho was leaning on Jisung and their eyes were finally acknowledging the presence of each other. 

"How many times I have to tell you?" Minho rhetorically asked him. "Your worth is not defined by what you do, Jisung. It's not about your actions, your achievements, your grades, about your capability of making a relationship work. It's about who you are, regardless. And you're not a failure for being who you are, you'll never be. It doesn't matter if you hadn't always been this guy full of friends, it doesn't matter if you don't reach certain standards 'cause you're more than that. You're so wonderful Jisung, you cannot reduce your personality to a list of actions made in order to get others' approval. You're more, how can you not see it the way I see it?"

"What do you see?" Jisung was in a hopeless need for reassurance, his eyes fully concentrated on Minho's figure which was over him, promising him relief.

"For what it's worth, you never failed me, Jisung. Ever since we met. Not even once. You never failed me, and not because you are what I want you to be, you're your own being, nobody has the right to tell you how you should be. Nobody, do you get it? You never failed me and you would never fail me, 'cause I like you. I like your colours, I like the way you talk, I like the way you think, I even like you when you steal fries from me 'cause you think I'm not watching, but I am watching Jisung. And I'm not here for what you do, but I am here for you. You could even change your whole persona, drop your studies and start your new life as a dog sitter tomorrow morning and I would still consider you the most amazing person I've ever known. You don't make people love you, they just do." Minho said, from his heart. "You're not a failure, Jisung."

That last, but not least, sentence had seemed to light up a feeble flame inside Jisung's eyes, as if his spirit was being raised up again, at long last. Those last syllables which had suddenly illuminated even the darkest places of his mind and soul, as if his core had always been there, waiting for someone to finally pronounce those apparently simple words. The spark, which had been ignited in the meanders of his self, was turning him into pure glow.

"Say that again." Jisung had requested, a strong desire to hear it all again could be easily perceived. 

"You're not a failure, Jisung." Minho had responded to his demands, now whispering those words as if they were a promise of loyalty to the man who was, unconsciously, holding his heart.

So Jisung got up, on his elbows, and within a furious momentum, his lips were attached to the older's ones, pulling Minho down with him, with such a fiery, but delicate, passion, Minho was nothing but unarmed in facing those overwhelming feelings. It didn't take long for that simple kiss to turn into something else, to turn into the declaration of an unspoken eagerness between those two. Jisung, with his arms wrapped around his neck, as it represented his only chance to get rescued, was tasting every inch of his mouth, ignoring the urge for breathing. Because somehow, kissing Minho did feel like breathing. And Minho wasn't unaware of the unexpected force of the impulse which was fanning the hit of the moment. He was feeling every single touch, every single sensation, Jisung's hands running wild all over his hair, his back, his body, begging Minho to give him more.

They didn't stop them, the risks they were taking. It didn't stop them, the awareness of consuming such an intimate act in a public space, but fortunately forgotten by anyone else. The necessity for love, comprehension, concreteness, everything dragged them into this tornado of emotions, impossible to stop. How Minho felt, when his eyes had the privilege to linger on Jisung's magnificent body, when he had the luxury to taste it all, slowly, indulging in those heavenly details he had never had the chance to discover before. When his own body was filled with anticipation and desider, under Jisung's blazing touch. Nothing could ruin that moment, which wasn't going to be, just an encounter between keen bodies, to Minho it felt more like a merger of spirits, souls, emotions and feelings. Even the inexperience, the unexplored nudity, the rushing adrenaline of such a moment. Even Jisung's latent embarrassment when he whispered his forbidden demands, right into Minho's ear. Jisung's trembling hands when he learned the art of putting a condom on someone else. Their soft laughter, the innocent, yet lustful, exploration of each other's body. The scent of their sweat combined to the smell of saltwater which was dominating the shore. Those muffled whines, the suffocated whimpers, the dull sound of their skin slapping against each other, every single noise was collaborating on the composition of the greatest symphony the music scene had ever heard. Null was the most phenomenal classical piece Beethoven had ever created, insignificant was the attempt of an orchestra to give birth to something more fascinating than what those two were making with just their bodies playing. The naive uncertainty, the sudden surprise in finding out how Jisung was strangely prepared. 

Minho sweared he was going to recollect, even after ages had gone by, how his entire life seemed to make sense, at the moment in which, inside Jisung's body, he felt, for the first time, a real and pure connection with someone. It was also about the excitement of the slow paced rhythm, the arousal of Jisung obscenely moaning into his mouth, the sound of his broken whines, as Minho was precisely hitting his sweetest spot. How his skin was burning, under the younger's nails scratching his back, frantically trying to breathe. How they both together built each other's edge, enjoying the thrill of it, trying to push themselves over their own limits to make that incredible sensation last longer. From the surrender of Minho, sinking his face into Jisung's neck as he groaned his orgasm out of his body, while Jisung was doing the same; to the moment in which their bodies collapsed next to each other, and they found themselves laughing, their complicity reaching deeper levels, while they were curled up together during that warm night.

It hadn't been just sex.

It couldn't be.

Minho had never felt this way before, and in the rush of the moment, he seemed to forget about all their previous history. All he wanted to do, all he hoped for, was laying with him, on that seaside shore, where his heart had been stolen from him, forever.

"I think I'm in love with you." Minho had whispered, spontaneously and foolishly. And after that, he wished he had never said those words which had completely turned everything upside down.

Jisung froze beside him, and when Minho, coming to his right senses, realized what he had just confessed, he simply knew that nothing good could come next. Silence. Deep silence followed them through their ride back home. Suddenly, those bodies which had seemed to be made for each other, couldn't stand closeness.

"Minho, I..." Jisung tried when Minho brought him home. "I thought... I didn't think that you..." But he couldn't talk and Minho didn't want to listen. Then Jisung went away, he disappeared behind his house's doors. Leaving Minho alone, on the verge of breaking down.

He had broken the pact.

He couldn't sleep that night.

How could he?

Minho had made love to Jisung.

He had violated the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people!  
> It's me again coming up with some... things about people having feelings and somehow suffering. I thought two chapters would have been enough, but it came out a little longer than expected, so the third will be the final piece. I wanna thank whoever left kudos to this story, whoever left a comment, thank you, truly. I hope to read more of your opinions since they always help me a lot, so let me know if I should post more about this! Stay safe you guys, especially during these hard times.  
> See you soon!


	3. Dynasty Episode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you spot mistakes, it's really long LMAO

Minho thought about leaving the country.

He could still remember that, when his eighteenth birthday came, their parents had completely and totally unexpectedly forgotten about it. Their only son, their only child, their only flesh and blood, the only one to come out of their holy and visceral union, the only product of their intense and undying affection, the human being born from their silent vow of love spoken into the night. Even if it hadn't been night, or maybe it was night, but they actually didn't remember since his mother had told Minho he had been convinced on a twelve hours flight to Quebec city in Canada, for their honeymoon, just because his father had the plan and the desire to take pictures of the original maple leaves right where they had become so famous and influential. "The origin of your fetus belongs to the immensity of the sky and the sacral altitude of the clouds." He did remember his mom saying. "That's why you always aim high and you're always going to aim higher, Minho." Obviously Minho didn't need to know that, he didn't want to know that. But his mother had many curious ways of cheering him up, and that day, Minho was feeling particularly bad since his middle schoolmates were always picking him as last when it came to soccer. That because he had this vaguely habit of being totally unable to play in the right way, that was why, when it was, disgracefully, his turn to kick the penalty, somehow, his foot always made the ball fly to the heavens above. Once, he had made it fly directly into the principal's office, he could still hear, to this day, the dramatic and tragical sound of the window glass breaking into pieces. In conclusion: he sucked. So his mother had thought she could have made him feel better about it by telling him how his body, being incapable of scoring a goal, was nothing but the metaphor of his great and successful plans for the future. All being said, even if he knew his parents loved him, that didn't hide the fact that, when Minho had reached the significant turning point for his newly adult life, they had just forgotten about it. No parties, no cakes, no birthday wishes in the morning, for a moment, when he noticed his parents not reacting to the day their one and only son had been given birth, he thought he was the one being mistaken, but no. He was sure it was the day he had seen the artificial light of the delivery room for the first time. So they had just happened to forget. He said nothing, though. He actually decided to keep quiet to not make his parents feel bad about it, because he knew that if he had called them out about forgetting such a life changing event, for all the three of them, he knew they were never going to forgive themselves. He did pretend that wasn't the day of his birthday, but lies never last. Especially in the internet age. So when his mother, later that evening, had received the notification from the dead Facebook account of his son, that it was the day he had come to this world, she had felt so mortified, she had convinced Minho's father to go out, last minute, looking for a decent present to give to him, to celebrate and honour his stepping into adulthood. It was almost midnight when his parents broke into his room with a huge wrapped gift in their hands. It seemed that a luggage was all they could find around. They kept clarifying they hadn't forgotten, they were just waiting for the right moment to give Minho the most beautiful gift a man, starting a new stage of his life, could ask for: a suitcase. And, a stamp: "It's symbolic." His father had told him. "You're gonna travel with this special luggage and stamps are needed to send letters." He seemed so solemn while talking nonsense.

"But there's internet, dad. Why should I send letters?" Minho had made him notice, but his father didn't want to discuss about it any further. So, Minho had a luggage, and since his parents had gifted him it, he had never been on a real trip, surely, not outside of his own country. That's why, after realizing he had compromised himself, his feelings, his friendship with Jisung and basically his whole world, a foreign journey didn't seem like an awful idea. Yes, it was deep in the night and probably he did need more money to buy tickets so suddenly. He checked, right after he came home, he googled it and the only affordable and cheap flight for a nation in which he hadn't publicly ashamed himself was a four days flight to Bombay in India, with several stopovers, one of them in Barcelona, so, maybe, leaving the country wasn't the most thoughtful choice. So, after a long shower, with the hottest level of water he had ever set, hoping that could fire his skin and melt his bones and his body right to the core, insanely hoping for himself to end up burnt to death, he considered something else. He slept on his little balcony that night, on the floor, without even drying his hair, heartily wishing he could catch a cold, or worse, a really really bad cold, so he could be taken to the hospital, rushing into the emergency room with no hopes left, and then die because of a simple, stupid, useless and dumb fever. Dying because of a fever, the same way the brave poet George Byron died after a life fighting against the injustice of society. To Minho it seemed a respectable way to end his earthly troubles. However, even if he had fallen asleep with his hair wet, at the mercy of the frosty winds, he hadn't died. Maybe that was a sign from the universe telling him he couldn't avoid the obscure and deep spectrum of his now well known feelings, but, on the contrary, he had to come out of his, by now, destroyed shell, in which he had hidden himself for over a year, and face the truth: after an almost perfect night, in the closure of it, Minho had ruined it all, putting his sentiments on full display, confessing his everlasting love to his very best friend Jisung. He couldn't ignore the reality of things anymore. He had fallen in love and, probably, that had been the first time he had admitted to himself the gravity and the seriousness of his own feelings.

He loved Jisung.

Back in the days, he had always believed that finally admitting he loved Jisung was going to be terrifying. He remembered how just imagining the moment in which he would have told him the truth, had caused frightening shivers all along his spine. He was so terrorized by the earnestness and the power of his affection, he used to think about it as a monstrous parasite which was feeding itself, turning itself stronger, instilling into Minho the fear of love. The fear of feeling such a profound connection to another human being, such an honest fondness for someone whom Minho did consider the real and found pure source of his happiness and lifeblood. He was so madly afraid to recognize and accept that it hadn't been Jisung, the one holding in his hands such a strong, scary and mighty power. It didn't innately belong to him, it wasn't inborn in him, Jisung wasn't the one in control of his feelings and, only at that point, Minho had realized that. It was him. It wasn't Jisung's fault, it never was. It was Minho, the one who arbitrarily agreed on granting him that much power. It was Minho, the one who had decided that his heartstrings would have played for Jisung and for Jisung only. He thought, so naively, that Jisung was the one who was holding him back from jumping that cliff, the one who had a last say on it, the one who had the power of making him jump, but what Minho had understood that night, was that he had jumped already, and Jisung had nothing to do with it. Minho acknowledged that he detained the control of his own feelings, him, in the first place, had been the author of his own tragedy, not because of some magical spell, not because Jisung had made him fall into his trap, but because he had fallen in love. It wasn't Jisung, it was him. The force which was sweeping him away, it was something which deeply belonged to him. And saying that, out loud, for the first time, confessing, not to Jisung only, but to himself, felt like he was finally claiming his heart back, as if he was regaining the possession of those feelings he had feared too much to think of them as his. But those were his, and so was his love. Jisung didn't make him fall, it wasn't like a comedy sketch, he hadn't put a banana on the floor, with the purpose of making him fall. Minho just fell, because he wanted to.

And Minho knew he had been wrong all this time. He knew it wasn't love the thing he was fearing the most. It wasn't that sense of constant falling, never reaching the end of the gully. It wasn't the realization that he had made his world spin around Jisung. It was what wasn't love that scared him the most. Rejection, abandonment, disgust. Distance, coldness, embarrassment. It was what did not depend on him the thing he was being gripped by. The anguish of what he couldn't predict, of what he couldn't control. He realized it, late that night. He did love Jisung and he didn't fear his feelings as he had always thought. The unpredictability of the one who he was in love with, the unstable future of a relationship when emotions grow and change through the time. That's what he feared. Not love. Love was what made his chest feel light, what made him look forward to the next day, every day.

That's why, during that illuminating night, sleeping with his drenched and soaked hair, he decided he was not going to take it back. He decided that, as soon as the sun had raised up making itself a space between the clouds, he would have faced it. He was not going to avoid Jisung. Minho had nothing to be ashamed of. He loved him, it was true, maybe Jisung didn't love him back, but Minho wasn't going to suppress his feelings to make things easier. He needed to talk to him, he needed to tell him more, he wanted to explain himself and what he had meant by loving him. Minho wanted to take the control of his life and emotions once again. Jisung only had to listen. He didn't want anything from him, but he couldn't let things stay still, like that. In a rush of bravery and boldness, Minho slept for three hours only that night and when the alarm rang in the morning, with those horrible black bags under his eyes, he was starting a new day, going to college, not scared of how deeply he was able to love anymore.

So, he was ready to talk to Jisung, but, apparently, it was impossible to talk to Jisung without Jisung. Because that was it. That morning, which had seen the daylight showing up again, normally, as if nothing had happened the previous night, Jisung wasn't anywhere. Minho had looked for him, from the very exact moment in which he had parked his car in the usual spot, he had searched the guy everywhere before getting to classes, he even tried with the toilet, since Jisung had this ritual of going to the bathroom looking at the mirror for five minutes before lessons starting. Minho thought it was meditation, Jisung always said it was more of narcissism, in order to boost his own confidence. Anyway, Jisung wasn't there nor anywhere else, so Minho decided to get that day started, waiting for Jisung to bump into him at lunch, hopefully. Too bad, that didn't happen either. Somehow, their friends' table was almost empty. Almost because the only person waiting for him there was none other than Seungmin. Everyone else just seemed to be disappeared, not even his younger friend had seen them around. So, with just the two of them sitting at lunch, they decided to do their research. The first one they had called had been Chan, since witnessing him skipping classes was actually a unique and unmatched experience. Minho did remember how he was so persevering and diligent when it came to college that, once, he took an exam with this drip feed right into his arm's veins. "I fainted this morning, they took me to the hospital and the nurse put me this thing, telling me I should get some rest, but we had a final today and I escaped, so would you mind make some more space for me and my IV?" That was why Minho and Seungmin got surprised when they didn't see him on a regular day. But it was Chan and he had a good excuse: it looked like one of his eldest sick neighbors had passed out during the night and he was the one who had been put in charge, by the old man himself, of calling his family and reading his last will and testament to his children and grandsons. A normal day in a building in which Chan was the only under sixty, well, him and that Woojin guy, but Chan did hate Woojin so they never counted him. Then, the mystery behind Chan's absence being solved, they tried to reach for Changbin and Felix, but none of them were taking the call. "Do you think he killed him?" Seungmin had speculated when they agreed on how sketchy it was for both of them to be completely unreachable by phone. "You think Felix would actually kill Changbin?" Minho replied with another question. Seungmin shrugged his shoulders off. "It might be." And then, it came to Jisung. Minho pushed for Seungmin to look for him, since Minho didn't want to be the one to make the call. That would have been awkward and what if Jisung had started referring to their complicated past night when Minho had him on speaker? A tragedy, so Seungmin got to do the number. It rang, the telephone rang for what Minho perceived as years before Jisung took the call. An endless stream of piercing rings, intermittently alternating themselves with the dull sound of the void inside that futuristic box people called cellphone, broke into his and Seungmin's ears before their friend could answer to the call, in the end. A few words, he hadn't said that much. He got up late, way too late, that morning, so he had missed part of his classes and he was now skipping lunch in order to catch up. He ended the call, as fast as he took it. "He sounded weird." Seungmin noticed. "Why? He sounded pretty normal to me." Minho had probably reacted too quickly and that strange inflection in his voice made the boy sat right next to him doubtful and suspicious. Minho could hear the mechanisms of his brain moving and working in background, while developing a brilliant and accurate theory of why Jisung was being weird and what Minho had to do with it. Nevertheless, Seungmin decided to fly over the matter and he added nothing more, no questions, no interrogations, he kept quiet, but Minho knew his mind was into something, and Minho also knew those Seungmin's unsaid hypothesis were probably true, but he was not going to confirm those conjectures of his.

So Jisung was unavailable, but Minho did need to talk to him. He didn't even know what he would have said, he didn't even know what he wanted to tell him, how he wanted to express himselhimself, he hadn't even prepared a speech or something, he just needed to find him and go to him to tell him everything. Everything he had hidden behind a glance, behind a little smile, behind a simple touch of hands. It didn't matter if Jisung wasn't going to feel the same, if he wasn't going to return his feelings, if he was going to reject him. Minho needed to talk, because he had been silent for way too long. So silent he had even forgotten about how liberating it felt to speak. His afternoon classes had been a disaster, Minho wasn't even trying to concentrate, all he could think about was the moment in which he would have finally let all those repressed emotions and thoughts fly freely. He didn't even bother himself trying to actual listen to the lecture the professor was doing, convinced he was going to make up for his lack of interest somehow later that week. A thrill raised inside his body, streaming inside his veins when the teacher dismissed the class. It's now or never, he thought. He rushed outside those university walls, heading to the parking lot, since he knew Jisung was going to be there. He always passed through it in the reaching for the bus station. He ran, because he didn't want to miss him. He ran, because for the first time he wasn't scared. He ran, because he didn't care and, at the same time, he had never cared so much before. He arrived there, and he saw him. With his backpack full of cartoons pins, even if, in there, nobody of his age no longer watched cartoons nor even had a backpack. Minho smiled, watching Jisung's silm and tiny figure walking all alone, his headphones and his hoodie on, as if he was a superstar hiding from paparazzi, not getting that walking around dressed up like that, only made him look more suspicion. He couldn't miss the chance, he had to talk to him, so he did it.

"Jisung!" Minho had called for him, maybe it was too obvious the anticipation in his voice. And as expected Jisung stopped his walk and he turned around, his face impossible to read as he saw Minho running to him in front of his eyes. He didn't say anything, he didn't reply, he just stood right there, waiting for the one to stop his run once he was there, standing in front of him. Minho reached him, almost on his knees for how intensely he had run, breathing in and out, trying to recollect himself. Jisung stared at him, no words on his lips. He just waited.

"Jisung, I... haven't seen you around today." Minho had said between a deep breath and another, starting a casual conversation as if he was not going to declare again and clarify the more complex aspects of his love for him.

Jisung seemed tense. Hence, he didn't seem tense, he was. He was there, Minho could feel Jisung's fear of even slightly flinching, he could perceive how his best friend was basically scared to move, he was there, holding his breath. "Yeah, yeah, I told you: I woke up late and I couldn't rest or hang around, I needed to get a grip on it. You know, the exam season is getting closer and..."

"Yeah, sure. I understand." Minho interrupted Jisung's embarrassed mumbling. And then silence, again. It wasn't normal anymore, it didn't feel comfortable anymore. Minho knew it wasn't going to be easy, but how heavy the atmosphere was? It was way too far from how he had imagined the whole thing. Jisung was clearly uncomfortable, his eyes locked on the ground beneath his feet. As if he didn't dare to look up at Minho. As if he didn't have the strength. That weighty silence was killing Minho's previous confidence so he had to talk before it turned worse. 

"I wanted to talk to you." He spit out, trying to not break down because of Jisung's painful agitation. 

"And you're talking to me." Jisung replied, sounding nervous.

"No, Jisung, I need to talk to you about that." Minho said, sure his friend could get what he was referring to. "About what?" He disappointed Minho. The latter sighed, but he didn't want to step back.

"About what I told you yesterday. That thing." He answered, and the mere and sole resurface of the events of the night before, the feelings, the sensations, then the fear and the devastation, it all seemed far and clouded now, as an old dream, but also, it all seemed vivid and real and lively, somehow. So Minho, clung to the memory of their intense bygone, found the force which led him to keep going.

"I think I need to talk to you, to explain myself, to let you understand what I meant, to give you an..."

"Minho, there's no need." Jisung said.

"No! For real, I just dropped the bomb, as if it was nothing, but there's more." Minho replied. "I want you to know I..."

"Minho, I'm being serious. It's okay." Jisung cut him off, but Minho was more confused than relieved. 

"It's okay? What is okay?" He genuinely asked when his friend seemed to care not about what he wanted to say.

"I mean, don't worry, really, it's... it's nothing." Jisung had stated with a sense of uncertainty rising.

"It's nothing?" Minho wanted to understand. "What is nothing?"

"You don't owe me an apology and you don't have to worry about it, I'm okay with it." Jisung kept going straight with his still unknown point.

"You're okay with what?" Minho asked again, but now a sense of unease was tempting and colonizing his chest. A huge discomfort he wasn't even able to describe.

"With staying friends, seriously. It's not a big deal, it's..."

"It's not a big deal?" Minho sounded more offended than he wanted to. "Jisung, I think it's more than that, I think this needs a proper conversation."

"Why? I said I'm good with it and knowing... that thing... does not affect the way I see you, so I guess we're fine."

Minho felt shattered. If the devastation he was feeling could leave his body and reincarnate into something else, Minho was sure those terrifying sensations he was living right now would have turned into the picture of an abandoned and desolated battlefield after the end of a war, filled with nothing but long gone despair and maybe, just a soulless man, forgotten by the other soldiers, only surrounded by those jackals in line to rip his already dead heart off his decomposing chest.

"You're fine? But what if I'm not?" Minho raised his voice even if he didn't mean to.

"You're not?" Jisung asked.

"That's not the point!" How could he not care at all? How could Jisung not want to hear what Minho had to say? He had confessed, he had told him he loved him, how could he be so emotionless and impassive in front of such a feeling? "I said I'm in love with you and you think we should just cool this off? Is it so irrelevant to you?"

"Minho, I didn't say that!" Jisung defended himself.

"So what? You won't even let me speak? I get it, it's difficult and weird for you, but it's not like it's easier for me."

"It's not that I don't want to talk, God. It's... not now, I can't do this now."

"Do what, Jisung? I'm not asking you to return my feelings." Minho made it clear. 

"It's..." Jisung murmured as he gave a look at his unlocked phone, looking more nervous than before. Then it lit up. Incoming call the screen said. And Minho did read the name on it.

Jisung looked at Minho before taking the call. Mortified, he seemed mortified. Then Minho heard. He heard everything maybe because the person on the other side of the phone was being too loud, maybe because it was an empty parking lot with just Jisung and him, only standing five feet apart. Maybe he should have thought about this, maybe he should have seen it coming. Maybe he should have considered this other significant variable which was now making things harder than before. The vibrant and bright voice of the girl on the phone, those words she was saying so carelessly, not knowing there was someone else there to hear them. She wasn't aware of how that simple and small talk was affecting meaningfully the guy who was standing there. Jisung wasn't reacting that much, for what Minho was hearing in his bubble of sorrow in which he had now locked himself into, trying to distance himself from what was causing him so much turmoil. Jisung was giving her monosyllabic answers, maybe to end the call more quickly, maybe because he didn't want Minho to know about that, maybe both. But Minho knew now and he felt miserable. Then Jisung hung up and the silence which followed felt more exhausting and piercing than millions of screams.

"You two got back together." The only thing Minho found the strength to state, he couldn't even acknowledge how tomb and grave his voice did come off.

Jisung seemed about to speak, but then he didn't.

"When did it happen?" Minho asked, as if that simple question could make a difference.

Jisung hesitated. Minho sensed he was hesitating. Maybe he was thinking, maybe he was thinking about a good lie. Maybe he would have lied to Minho. Maybe he was just buying more time to come up with a better mendacity. "Last night." But he said then and Minho knew, by looking at his face, that Jisung was being honest.

Last night, he had said. Somehow, those two words felt more like daggers and stones. They were crashing him. Without making a noise.

"Be-before or... after?" Minho stumbled over his own words, while he was struggling with all those negative thoughts which were clouding his mind. Jisung knew what Minho was talking about. He knew too well, he didn't even need to ask what it was about.

"After that." And with that answer he had just put a stone upon Minho's grave. He tried not to panic, he tried to calm down, he tried to push away that sense of deeper solitude which was now harassing his soul.

Minho wasn't lying. He didn't want Jisung to return his feelings, that had never been the point. But he had naively wished Jisung could show his heart a little bit of respect, a little bit of consideration, at least. Because he knew Jisung wasn't going to be madly in love with him, but surely he didn't think he was going to get back with his theoretically ex girlfriend right after the shore thing. Not right after Minho had opened up to him. But Minho was naive and a foolish. It wasn't his place, it never was. Jisung never wanted him that way, so why did he have to care? He didn't have to care, he wasn't responsible for Minho's feelings, Jisung had never asked Minho for more. He couldn't be mad at him for getting back with the person he wanted for himself. He couldn't, so why was he?

"Minho, let me explain." Jisung started. "I got home and I couldn't sleep. I don't know why I just couldn't sleep and then she called me, it was like three in the morning and she wanted me back and..." Minho wasn't even listening. "I mean I would have told you, but it was freaking three in the morning and we had that thing going on and... I don't know, I'm... I mean... I don't even know how to word this properly. God."

"It's nothing." Minho said. With no emotion in his voice. "I understand."

"You understand?"

"Yeah. You don't need to explain anything to me. You wanted to get back with her. You had made it pretty clear. So, it's not that I'm surprised."

"I know we had a moment, Min. And I cherish what you told me, it's not like I don't care, I don't appreciate or I don't think what you feel is important. It's just..." Jisung seemed to struggle while talking. 

"It's okay. It's okay, for real." Minho said, taking a few steps away from the younger. "This is what you wanted, right?"

"Minho, please."

"No, I swear, I'm fine. The timing you know, it makes me feel weird, but I was the one mistaken. I mean, I'm the one who fell even if it was crystal clear that you were never going to see me under a different light. So it's on me. I'm fine and I'm glad you got back with her. That's what you wanted. Not me. Her." Minho tried to reassure him, but the attempt failed. 

"But if you need to talk we can talk! I have to meet her now, but, like, tomorrow? If you want to, we can talk about it and you can tell me what you wanted to say, I will listen. I will, Minho. I swear." Jisung walked closer, with the purpose of holding his friend's hand, but Minho stepped back as soon as Jisung tried. It was pretty eloquent.

"No. I mean, it's nothing. I don't even have a speech, so... we can just... forget about that. Maybe it's for the best. I gotta go." He said before turning around, feeling the urge to escape from Jisung's sight. He heard Jisung calling him, trying to get him back there, so he walked faster and further until he couldn't hear his voice calling anymore. It wasn't supposed to hurt that much, because he had always known nothing was going to happen, but maybe he felt betrayed. Maybe what was torturing him was the realization that his feelings were miserably insignificant. His love was nothing but an inconvenience, and not even a serious one. Minho's love didn't make him question himself, it didn't touch him, not even on the surface. His love didn't stop him, his love didn't petrify him. It hadn't been shocking nor even surprising. His love hadn't been remarkable enough because, in the end, Jisung didn't want his love.

It meant nothing.

It never meant something.

But Minho had ignored the signals, the signs. He wanted to believe it mattered, but it didn't. So, destroyed completely and with the need for crying, he drove to the only person who could help him, the only one who knew about this. The one who had warned him, but Minho never listened. He needed to talk to not drown into his wretchedness and affliction. Changbin had told him. Minho didn't listen. Oh, how he wished love didn't make him deaf. Oh, how he wished his love hadn't been so brutally stepped on. Oh, how he wished he could just have turned it off, and the pain with.

As soon as Minho reached Changbin's house, he considered leaving without even trying, feeling more like a burden than anything else. He didn't even know what to say: hello friend, you were right, my feelings had been painfully neglected and Jisung only cared about the fallacious appearance of his not so felt relationship? And, you were also right about this, he doesn't want me and I'm not even in the picture of his love life? Not even in the back, not even there dressed as a tree, swinging around in the background, I'm not even the picture frame, not even the packaging of the picture frame, not even the cool one with air bubble you can pop just for the joy of it. How could Minho even say that? Where was his pride at? Maybe he didn't have any, maybe he had lost it completely after the most recent interaction with the guy he had fallen for. So, Minho took a deep breath, and his finger got dangerously closer to the doorbell, and he was really about to ring it, until he noticed he didn't have to. The door was already open. A thief, Minho thought. A gang of thieves had broke into Changbin's home, leaving the house unlocked after stealing all his family's treasures and after kidnapping Changbin himself. That was why he wasn't taking his calls. Changbin had been kidnapping by a terrible group of criminals, that was it. The police, Minho had to call the police, obviously, and he tried to write the number down with those shaky hands of his until he thought something else. What if that door, left recklessly open, wasn't the work of a fatal villain? Maybe Minho had to check before bothering the authorities and the Vice President of their nation himself. So he took all the strength he got, and he opened that door. Quietly, being careful of not making too much noise. Changbin's house had always seemed huge, with those high ceilings and those luxurious chandeliers, and now, immersed into that particular desolated silence, the house seemed even more majestic. Nobody was around. It seemed. Nothing seemed misplaced, everything seemed perfectly fine. No broken glasses, no signs of a previous fight, no blood on the carpet, no dead bodies under the tea table, not even scared animals, traumatized and hidden behind the pillows of the artisanal manufactured burgundy sofa. No sign of break in, it was just... normal. There's nobody here I should leave, that was what Minho thought, realizing that maybe the family was just out and they had all forgotten to properly close the door. Very incautious and definitely dangerous, but these things happen. He had no right to be there while none of the owners wasn't, so he turned around, decided to get out of there. Then someone did scream.

But that hadn't been a scream, it looked more like a heartfelt ranting, as if someone was suddenly getting very furious. As if someone was yelling about all the injustices in this world, but Minho couldn't tell to whom that voice belonged to, so he walked closer to the stairs, trying to hear what was going on up there. And as soon as he climbed a few stairs only, the voice immediately became more clear. Minho did freeze, alone, but not so much, standing there, while a few steps away he was sure lots of things were going on. The house wasn't empty at all, because Minho could sense that, right into his room, Changbin was having a very difficult guest. And that guest's voice was so incredibly impressive that it was very hard for Minho not to notice, not to realize who was the person Changbin was apparently discussing with. Minho was dying for telling Seungmin they were right: Felix and Changbin were together, and, it didn't look so peaceful in there. They were arguing, Minho could tell. They were arguing, but he couldn't understand about what. He was standing behind his friend's door, not daring to move, but somehow, he had no intention of leaving, so spying on them seemed the more logical between all the choices. Maybe not the fairer, but curiosity never killed a man. Even if, it actually did, multiple times probably, starting from Pandora and his famous box. But Minho knew nothing about Greeks and mythology, so, he felt safe. After lots of shouting of words Minho hadn't been able to get, damn rich people and their partially soundproofed homes, the storm seemed to quiet down. All he could hear from where he was standing were imperceptible whispers and an interesting squeaking of what Minho thought was the parquet. He had to go. Minho thought it was time for him to leave. It was impossible to hear, even more to listen so, he had a foot on the stairs already when a louder scream hit him. Minho could finally get what those two were saying. He could distinguish those words which were been yelled so intensly, in a matter of seconds, Minho had his ears back on the door.

"I wanna punch you so bad sometimes." Minho heard from Felix who seemed so angered he wondered what led them into having such a strong argument. Then they were moving, Minho thought. He heard footsteps and sighs, but still nothing came out of the opponent's mouth, then Minho heard him too: "Then do it." Changbin had almost screamed, but his voice sounded physically tired, strangely strained, as if he was inexplicably weary. Again, deep seconds of silence preceded the next lines, and Minho knew he had to go, get out of that house in which he had broke in without any authorization, and mind his own business, but the tension in there was so entertaining Minho was almost forgetting about why he had come there in the first place. It was a relief to think about other people's dramas rather than his. He was completely caught up, waiting for more talking so he could try to understand what they were discussing about so animatedly.

"Hit me!" Changbin insisted while Felix was probably not speaking anymore. "You said you wanted to punch me? Then do it, hit me! If you believe this is how you wanna resolve things, hit me." Resolve things? Which things they had to resolve? For a truly intense moment, Minho regretted being so busy dealing with his unrequited love, he had missed so much from his friends. He had looked away for just a few weeks and now Changbin and Felix were on the other side of the door, shouting at each other, almost beating each other. How could Minho not notice? Then a sound, interrupting his thoughts, a dull, but somehow strong sound distracted him from the realization of his latest uninterest into his friends' relationship dynamics. A slap. It was obvious that had been a slap. Felix must have slapped Changbin, it had to be him. Felix, the guy who used to cry, as a kid, when a bee died in the middle of his garden, the kid who had prepared a whole funeral to a living being which wasn't even human. The guy who had never got into fights, the guy who's hero was Florence Nightingale, had just slapped Changbin giving in to violence for the first time in his life. Minho acted drawn by impulse. Pure, senseless, idiotic, impulse. He decided he had to come in, scared of a violent and quick escalation of events in order to avoid a fistfight. His brain wasn't even working when his hand grabbed the doorknob in front of him. His mind wasn't even processing informations when he opened the door, without even announcing himself. His rational thought were missing when he barged into Changbin's room, founding himself to look at a scene he had never imagined before. A picture he had never thought it could be real. It was so unexpected that Minho didn't even scream, so surprising that he couldn't even yell, traumatized by what his eyes were unbelievably staring at. When he was outside, standing in the aisle picturing those two into his head, imagining them getting mad at each other, he didn't think, and maybe nobody could have ever thought, that those he was looking at were the positions in which the discussion was being made. Shocking, jarring, upsetting, traumatic. Minho would have described the experience in those terms, later on. They were naked. No, not naked, but half naked, and that was enough blunt for his sensitive cornea. They were laying down on Changbin's bed, or at least, Changbin was laying down on his own bed, with nothing but his boxers on and Felix, he wasn't properly laying down since he was basically sitting on the other's lap, his pants on the floor, his shirt and the rest, fortunately, still on, and his hand still resting on the face which had endured the impact of his smack. Paralyzed in their position, they were both staring at Minho with their jaws on the ground. Minho blinked, once, twice, but the scene never changed. He knew he had to catch up on his friends' stuff, but surely he didn't think his friends were doing stuff while he was distracted by his own disasters. He wanted to talk, to cut off that awkward situation, but it felt like his tongue wasn't going to collaborate in any ways, always founding himself unable to articulate words. He was speechless, indeed. In the very sense of it. But obviously, just standing there in complete silence wasn't giving any good to anyone in that hapless room. Suddenly, as if the spell made by an evil wizard had been undone and those two weren't stone statues anymore, Changbin got up so abruptly that Felix, who was previously on top of him, fell from the bed, his visage directly facing the ground. The boisterous thud made Minho wake up from the powerful trance he was in. And all at once, the epiphany hit him: he had seen something he didn't have to see. He turned around, thinking escaping was the answer, but Changbin's voice ordered him to stay and not go anywhere. In an ordinary situation, Minho would have never listened to Changbin's commandments, in fact, in an ordinary situation Minho would have laughed at his short friend's presumption that his words could have made Minho stop his run, but that situation wasn't ordinary at all, so Minho stayed.

Minho waited, sitting on the living room's couch while he was hearing the not even subtle bickering from upstairs. He didn't leave the house, as Changbin wished, but he preferred to go downstairs and let them get dressed without him watching. So he had heard them quarreling as they were clothing themselves again, but he didn't pay attention to their words this time. "So you two are a thing?" Minho had found himself asking, after Changbin and Felix had reached him on the sofa. The explanation he had received from them had been probably the most confused one he had ever heard. "We do things, but it's not like we do that all the time." Changbin said while Felix was heavily blushing, his eyes staring at the carpet refinement. "You're not together." Minho tried to understand. "And you do not do this regularly, it's not planned. Not a fling."

"It just happens, sometimes."

"But you two... it's like you were having an argument or something." Minho did notice.

"Yeah we were."

"'Cause you're an idiot, Changbin." Felix muttered and rolled his eyes.

"So... you're not, like, boyfriends or something..."

"We're nothing." Felix took the courage to speak out loud and clarify. "We're nothing." He said twice as if he was making an effort to actually convince himself. "The things that happen sometimes are just... the result of dumb decisions, that's it. We're nothing."

"'Cause you don't want us to." Changbin sounded harsh and strangely bitter. If Minho could have just disappeared he would have done it, he actually hoped they would not start debating in front of him, clueless and not aware of what was going on between them. He did want to know, though, but they didn't seem open to questions about the nature of their conflict.

"What happened?" Felix had took the lead in the conversation. "What brings you here?"

"It's my house, Felix. I should do this kind of questions." Changbin had to say.

"Yeah, but you're not doing that."

"If you shut up, I'll do it." He stated and Felix snorted a little bit bothered. "What's going on Minho? And how did you get in?" Changbin asked, his voice sounding now more relaxed, not as if he was on trial.

"The door was open. At first I got scared, I thought thieves might have been here. When I noticed that everything was actually fine I considered leaving, but then I heard you fighting and I got curious I guess and then the slap and... you know." Minho confessed, while Felix was still silently judging Changbin sitting right beside him.

"Shit, I must have left it open when you rushed in screaming at me." Changbin realized looking at Felix. The latter looked away, no statements coming from him. "Anyway, why are you here? Is it because I didn't attend classes today? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened. I mean, not lessons related." Minho said with a hint of sourness. 

"Then what?" 

And Minho was about to talk, but then he looked up. Felix was there. Felix didn't know. Was it safe to speak? Felix, though, did notice Minho's hesitation when his eyes had stumbled on him. "What?" The freckled boy asked. "Is it something I am not allowed to know?"

"Is it him?" Changbin figured out considering their older friend's vacillation. Minho nodded, defeated.

"Who? What are we talking about?" Felix was curious to know.

"Felix, it's not up to me telling you."

"I got that, but since I'm here."

"It's Jisung." Minho admitted. His voice trembled as soon as that name came out of his mouth. "Something happened and... you were right."

Felix raised an eyebrow in confusion, but he didn't talk, sensing it wasn't his place to.

"What? Why? What happened Minho? Are you okay?" Changbin moved his sit next to him, one of his hand was resting on Minho's back trying to reassure him whatever happened. 

"You were right, you were just right." Minho felt a beginning of tears, menacing his eyes, but he wasn't sad nor he was frustrated. He didn't even know why talking was making all those teary teardrops resurface. All he knew was that he felt tired.

"About what?"

"About me, about him. I confessed, Changbin. I confessed to him last night." Minho held himself back, using all the strength he had not to break down right there, on someone else's couch.

Felix had his eyes wide open, following the narrative without a single clue about it. Changbin didn't talk, letting Minho continue.

"You were right about me being stupid, about me being naive. We had a moment, last night. We shared a moment and, I don't know, I got so involved, so caught up with it, that it slipped. Just like that, out of my mouth. And I regretted that, as soon as I said it. I thought I had ruined it all. He didn't say anything. I think he was confused, he had all the rights to be. I felt devastated and I believed it was over, I strongly believed it was over, that I had made a mistake. But then, I suddenly felt okay again. I thought it wasn't that bad, maybe it had been for the best. I mean, he was never going to return my feelings, but I was free, you know? I was finally free from that blood sucking secret." Minho made a pause, he took a deep breath, then he continued. "But I wanted to talk to him. To explain myself, telling him it was okay, even if he didn't feel the same. I looked for him this morning, stupidly hopeful, but he wasn't around. He was avoiding me. When I met him at last, I thought he was doing it because I had embarrassed him. With my confession and all, but it wasn't because of that."

"Then what? Why was he avoiding you?" Changbin asked, worrisome into his tone.

"We met, at the parking lot. I ran after him, 'cause I needed to confront him, but he was trying his best to cut me off. I felt that, he didn't want to talk. And it was weird and it was odd, he kept saying it was fine, but he didn't want to listen to me, to what I had to say. Then I got it. Why he didn't want to see me. No, not that. Why he didn't want me to see him." His voice cracked as he pronounced these last words. "He's back with his girlfriend. The timing is weird because he got back with her, like, two hours after I confessed. And I don't want to admit that, but it hurts."

Nobody apart from Minho was talking in that room filled with a sense melancholy and vague sadness. "It's not like I hate the fact that he's being with someone else, it's not that. I have seen him chasing and dating other people for all this time. It's not that, Changbin. I think it hurts, because he showed me how easy it is to step over my feelings. I said I love him. I said I love him and that didn't cause the minimal response. It's like he didn't even hear! I didn't want him to love me, I didn't want him to stop his life for me, because of what I told him, but damn. He wasn't even shaken by that. It's like he didn't even care. That's why it hurts. It hurts to be this insignificant to him." Minho wasn't ugly crying, he wasn't sighing uncontrollably, he was too worn out for that. He had felt too much he was now quietly sobbing, one or two tears, painting his fatigued face. He was exhausted. 

"Minho, I'm... I'm sorry." Changbin said, and he was sincere. Felix, on the other hand, was blinking, surprised, trying to process what had just been said.

"You were the only one I could talk to. I am the one being sorry. Sorry if I rushed here. Sorry if I didn't listen to you. I'm an idiot."

"Minho..."

"You're not an idiot." Felix had finally spoken catching the other two out of guard. "You're just in love."

"But he doesn't love me. It feels stupid to love him, when he clearly doesn't." Minho said disappointed.

"Listen, hear me out." Changbin spoke again. "You're right about me being right. And I'm not going to brag about it because deep down I wish I weren't, yet... I told you."

"Changbin, what are you..." Felix questioned, but Changbin didn't let him finish.

"I'm not going to give you a stupid and dumb and useless philosophical discourse about love, about chances and destiny and stuff like that, Minho. Because if you wanted to hear bullshit you could have downloaded a bad teen age movie on Netflix and cry your heart out watching it, filling yourself with this sense of hope and expectation. But that doesn't make any sense and you know that, so I'm gonna tell you what I really think you should hear: you tried Minho, and I'm not blaming you for confessing. Even if you knew it could have gone potentially wrong. You tried and you failed, but that's okay, at least you won't be dragged along by uncertainties and what ifs. So you didn't do wrong, but I don't want you to hurt yourself any further." Changbin said and for the first time, his voice was solemn and authoritative, that he didn't seem the Changbin everyone made fun of because he let them do it. He seemed almost intimidating, maybe. And surely, Felix felt the same since his eyes, staring at Changbin as if they were looking at the unrestrainable power of nature, were betraying him. "Minho, you have to stop."

Minho got what he meant, but how was the only word which came across his mind. How could he stop doing that? How could he forget about the way Jisung was making him feel? How could he stop loving him? And as if Changbin was reading his mind, he tried to answer to his legit doubts.

"And I know it sounds ridiculous, unrealistic and maybe even idiotic, but you have to stop, 'cause you can stop loving someone. You can fall out of love, Minho. Think about it: it's not like you fall in love all of a sudden. I mean, yeah, it happens, like, you start feeling something all of a sudden, but love is not something quick to reach. Love is harsh, love is resistance, love is dedication. Love isn't falling into a hole, love is gradually climbing up the stairs. First, you think about them, then you are always noticing the smallest dimple at the right corner of their mouth whenever they laugh, next you start letting them choose their favorite sit, again you learn how to make sure you always know the right words to say to cheer them up. Always wanting to make them feel happy. 'Cause you care and you work for it. You work so hard that you start neglecting your own needs and suddenly you find yourself with this salami pizza in your hands on a Saturday night, and you're like: God, I hate salami pizza, why did I order this shit? And you're about to chase after that dumbfuck of the pizza guy 'cause you want your money back and free fries, but then, you remember. You bought their favorite's. You forgot about yours and you ordered theirs. But that's okay, 'cause you love them and you want to keep loving them 'cause loving them feels electrostatic. But this isn't prison, Minho. It's not forced labour. It's something that you wanna do, but when it becomes too much, you can just stop. Stop taking care of them, stop choosing their favorite movies, stop thinking their problems are yours. I know it's hard, I know this isn't easy, but you can get up even if you fell. Stop wasting yourself on someone who doesn't love you that way. Just do a favor to yourself... stop working for it, Minho."

They hadn't talked that much after that, only hugs and helping pats on the shoulders followed. Maybe Changbin was right, maybe Minho had to let go, maybe Minho had to stop. Then Minho left, along with Felix and they were now walking to their respective homes together. It had been pretty quiet, actually until Felix himself talked.

"I'm not telling anyone." He promised, giving Minho a soft smile. Minho thanked him kindly, but still, his little friend seemed absorbed into his own thoughts.

"Are you okay, Felix?"

"It's my favorite." Felix mumbled, but Minho didn't understand.

"What? What are you saying?" He asked again.

"Salami pizza." Felix stated firmly. "Salami pizza is my favorite."

Minho stopped working.

It hadn't been easy at first, not at all. Against all odds, he had decided to follow the first smart and useful advice Changbin had ever given to someone. It was hard, especially when everything reminded him of Jisung, especially when Jisung's essence was in everything and everything was Jisung. No, worded like that, it seemed a shampoo commercial, but the point was: he was there, always there. In his thoughts, behind the shadow of the clothes he used to borrow him, in the whole grains in his kitchen's cupboard, bringing up the memory of that day in which they had gone to the supermarket together, since Minho had run out of food, and Jisung had been so bad he hadn't even been able to take the right cereals, and Minho had been so disappointed he had snorted at him when he had found out about his wrong purchase. Jisung had apologized, but Minho never accepted those apologies. It felt familiar, domestic, a simple visit at the shop gave Minho the taste of that everyday life he wished he could share with him. Nobody ever ate those cereals. They stayed there, as a reminder of how things could have been. Switching off those feelings, forgetting Jisung's little details forged into Minho's mind, it seemed complicated, utterly unlikely, but it was not impossible. Something changed between them, the way they talked to each other, the way they acted around each other, even if both of them didn't want to make it weird, even if they had silently agreed on letting things go to preserve the pale ghost of their friendship, nothing was normal anymore. Jisung always seemed to feel guilty around Minho as if he thought everything that happened between them was his fault; Minho, on the other hand, seemed cautious, wary, as if Jisung was some kind of cheeseburger he wanted to avoid while he was on a diet. An everlasting diet. Minho always limited himself when it came to Jisung, he always tried to stick to a bare minimum dose of him, scared he could erase the respectable amount of effort he was putting into letting his love for him fade away if he got too close to him again. They didn't sit right next to each other anymore, they didn't even hang out anymore, not without the safe presence of their other friends. They barely texted, since Jisung's memes on Savannah animals didn't exactly count as conversations. It was strange and they both felt the difference, they were both feeling the gap between them becoming larger, but none of them ever tried to reach out and take the other's hand. None of them ever tried to fill that empty space which was getting deeper and deeper, constantly changing things, separating them forever. Jisung was afraid and Minho didn't want to risk it. Turning things back to normal wasn't an option and they knew that. So step by step, Minho did all he could to get over him, in the healthier way possible. It did help, that Jisung had shown a brand new involvement with his fresh started relationship. It did help, that the girl, somehow, always managed to have him booked, so he had started hanging out less and less with all of them. The more Minho didn't see him, the more his scars had space and time to recover and finally heal. Minho wasn't always that lucky though, but even the worst scenario did offer new and interesting opportunities. It happened a day, just a regular and ordinary day of college.

Jisung, lately, had developed this habit of involving his girlfriend in every single moment of his life. It was a pity that some moments of Jisung's life happened in the same timeline as Minho's, like lunches. Jisung had started showing up at lunchtime holding hands with his girlfriend. They wanted to stick around together, they didn't want another break up, they had decided they wanted to be closer than ever in order to avoid another deep crisis. So, apparently, their lovely project included lunches together, too bad that meant they were all going to lunch together, at the same table. It was disturbing, of course it was. Minho found it really terrifying to witness every mid day their too manifest ostentation of affection, and somehow, she always ended up sitting on Jisung's lap, even if, sure thing, there was enough room for everyone. What made Minho wish he could turn back time were the not too smuggled glances Jisung gave him. Every word, every move, every little peck on the lips, every kind of love gesture he had for his girlfriend was followed by an indescribable and remorseful look at Minho. As if Jisung was begging Minho to excuse him, but Minho wasn't mad at him, nor he was jealous. Or maybe he was, but that didn't matter at all, since it was just an involuntary response to the whole situation they had lived before. He didn't want Jisung to feel guilty, because that didn't help his forgetting Jisung process. He didn't want Jisung to think about them, to be sorry, he wanted Jisung to cancel everything, to stop looking at him as if he was going to burst into tears anytime given, to stop treating him as if he was something about to break, stop giving him pitiful looks, because Minho didn't want that. Minho wasn't going to make a scene because his girlfriend was always by his side. Good for him, he thought. Until the day of the final schism came. All of them were sitting, just like always, at their by now famous and familiar table, one by one, they all joined for that peaceful pause from those nightmarish classes. But classes weren't as nightmarish as the conversation which Minho was about to deal with. "Someone's head is stuck into the toilet." An unknown student had shouted, looking for other people's help. Apparently, one of this guy's friend wanted to prove his head wasn't bigger than his shoulders, and what sounded smarter than proving the point by sticking his own head into the loo? Probably nothing. Some people wanted to help, some people wanted to see, included Minho's friends, and Jisung was one of them, so in a matter of seconds, Minho found himself alone sitting at their table, eating his lunch, strongly desiring to ignore those people's nonsense, taking advantage of that spare time to write down ideas for that essay he should have started to compose already. Except, he wasn't alone.

Jisung's girlfriend, who was sitting right in front of him, probably unbothered by the university current drama, was looking at Minho just like a rookie tamer looks at a grown lion: scared, but also confused. Minho felt her eyes intensely staring at him, so he looked up, he smiled at her, gently, hoping she could stop staring. She smiled back, and Minho percieved a weird sense of embarrassment on her face, but he didn't want to read too much into it. All he wanted to do was getting his work done. So he looked down at the paper again, his pen ready to corrupt that blank and immaculate sheet, but allegedly she had a plan.

"What are you doing?" She asked. Her voice was soft spoken, light, surely, in real life, it didn't sound as fastidious as it did sound in Minho's head.

Minho's pen stopped moving, he had written two words only and he had to quit so soon. Did she want to have a conversation? With him? Was that necessary? They had never spoken to each other before, not individually at least. Why did she want to do that now? But Minho was a nice person, polite and well educated. He had to reply, he didn't intend to be rude on purpose. 

"An essay." Minho said with clear lack of enthusiasm. "It's a task, for tomorrow."

"Nice. What is it about?" Her excitment didn't match Minho's indifference. The latter frowned in confusion: what was she so riled up for?

"Puritans, duty, appearance. English literature." He said dry.

"And what about your English? Are you skilled or something?" She went on with her odd interest.

"I wouldn't say so, but I'm not even that bad." Minho was hating that small talk. She grinned at him again, for what seemed minutes and Minho, living in a total state of discomfort, tried to return the gentle action, but he failed when his teeth opened into a definitely not convincing and awkward smile. Then silence, and he naively thought the downgrade had been reached and that failed attempt to chat was over, but it was not. It went worse.

"Minho, I don't despise you!" She had said, in a proud tone, with all her chest. Minho was looking at her again, even more weirded out than before.

"Okay... thanks... I guess?" He said, hoping she could just stop talking and shut up.

"No, really. I fully support you." She claimed, leaning forward to him. Minho noticed and he was glad the table was dividing them. Otherwise, he couldn't have handled something as terrible as an hug. Not from her. Minho wondered what she was actually talking about, but he did want that torture to end so he didn't reply and he just gave her a thumb up, but apparently, she had more lines in storage. "You know, I totally support you and people like you."

She supported what?

"I mean, gays, I totally support gay rights." She stated, firmly as if she had just ended homophobia with that phrase.

"Again, thanks. I guess?" Minho tried to cut her off, but everytime she came back stronger.

"No, I mean, other girls would have freaked out, you know! Getting to know such a thing, discovering something like that. They would have gone crazy. Totally crazy, more like psychos. If you get what I mean." She continued while laughing, and Minho wasn't exactly sure of what she meant, but he let her go with the flow, just to understand where that suspicion prologue was going to lead. "They would have started acting all possessive and jealous. Like: I'm not gonna let you see them. You're not going to hang out with your friends anymore. All these stuff. But I do think this is how insecure and scared girls act, and I'm not one of those. I am confident and I trust Jisung. And I trust you!"

Minho blinked. Was she on crack?

"Ehm, sorry, but... I'm afraid I might not understand what this is all about."

"I just wanna say: I'm not doing it 'cause I have to, Minho. I'm doing it 'cause I feel this is the right thing to do, and I actually care about you, your community and your current condition. This must not be easy." She spoke softly in an affable tone.

Minho dropped the pen. Abruptly and with no intention of taking it back. Something clicked into his head, even if he was praying things were not what they seemed.

"Excuse me? What must be hard to me?" He was afraid to ask.

"Minho you don't have to hide it from me, I know!"

Strange how his name sounded so annoying when it came out from her mouth that Minho almost felt the urge to go to the registry office and change it into something extravagant and foreign she couldn't spell so she couldn't ruin it.

"I'm not hiding, everybody knows I'm gay." Minho responded lowkey bothered.

"Seriously! I know you like him! And it's okay to me!"

"You know what?"

Disbelief.

"It's not a problem, for real! I googled on the internet and I read that falling in love with your best friend is actually some sort of a ritual for you gays, it's like a milestone in your rainbow path and it's very common! I'm not judging you for that and I'm not going to take your friend away from you, I would never."

It couldn't be.

"Wh-what... what did he actually tell you? And why?" He sounded calmer than he felt in reality.

"Well, as you know, we were on a kind of break."

"Yeah, I know."

"That because we weren't on the same page, it felt like we weren't even trying to align with each other, I felt like I couldn't tune into his melody. I felt devastated." She said so dramatically Minho found her unbearable. "I made my mistakes, at first, I apologized, but then he was the one acting all weird around me! He didn't want to open up with me, so I asked him time for myself. Then, when we got back together, he told me. He told me what was going on with his life and why he was distancing himself so much from me and once he told me, I totally understood. But I'm not angry at you, I could never."

"I might be dumb, but really, I don't get what you're trying to say here." Or maybe he did, but he couldn't believe it.

"It was you. It was you the one who was messing up with his life. I mean, not in a really bad way, but I think it sums up what it felt for him. He was so distant because he was dealing with you all the time!" She said so frankly and lightly that Minho thought she had no idea of what those words were about to cause. "He told me you were acting strange lately, that you always seemed to need him so you called him absurdly often and he was there, 'cause he loves you, as a friend obviously. And somehow you two ended up spending so much time together since you were asking to, that he didn't even notice the way you were monopolizing his life! And when he did notice he didn't care 'cause it looked like you were having a pretty hard time and he wanted to be there for you. But then it happened and he got why you had been so demanding recently. He told me you confessed to him, and I want you to know that I don't hate you at all, even if I am his partner. He told me that you're still friends, he told me that you coped with his rejection pretty well and obviously he told me he doesn't see you that way so I don't have to feel threatened or something. But I wouldn't anyway, I mean, why should I?" She looked him down on and Minho never felt more offended. "But I'm glad everything's fine now! Between you guys! And I hope you will get over him at some point. Not for me obviously, for you. You need to find someone who makes you happy, someone who is actually able to return your feelings! I support you Minho! This is not an easy life you chose for yourself, but you're brave and everything's going to be alright!"

"Choose? You think I chose?" Minho felt the need to yell at her, but it could not, not in a public space.

"Yeah, I said it. You go with that gay life you picked for yourself! I'm one hundred percent supportive."

Minho took a deep breath. She was talking about choosing, as if he had woken up one day telling himself: "I wanna be discriminated and regularly reminded I have no right to exist. How could I achieve this state of oppression? Yeah, I could be gay, it sounds cool." She was talking about choosing as if it was a lifestyle, as if he had suddenly decided to go vegan, she was talking about choosing as if his love was something made up, something fabricated, artificial, as if it wasn't natural for him, as if he was just trying to fit in a concept, a trend. Minho wanted to scream, telling her people don't choose whom they love, they just do. But that wasn't even the worst part, an information Minho couldn't process properly was Jisung's behavior. He had lied. He had lied to her, he had lied about Minho, he had lied about himself, he had lied about everything, how could that be possible? Why did he do that? Why telling her Minho did feel something for him? And why creating a fraudulent story around the only thing he had been able to report in all its realness? Why telling her? Why lying? But Minho couldn't think, because all he felt was rage and betrayal, anger and frustration. Jisung didn't think twice before revealing what for Minho had been so painful to accept, he didn't even show respect for the profundity of his feelings, since he was clearly making things up on how the events actually went. Minho didn't know if Jisung had done that to regain his girlfriend's trust, he didn't know if he had done that to not let her wonder in doubts, to hide himself from all the things he had done behind her back, all the cheating and lying, everything covered up by another bunch of lies, but Minho did know that it was over. It had to be over. 

The girl kept talking, but all Minho could hear were his thoughts, his disappointment, his bitterness, his feelings which were faltering and wavering, his heart was slowly stopping to beat for Jisung, but it was still there, even if the sound of it reminded Minho of a dull record player deprived of his songs. His heartstrings were not playing for him anymore. He was shaking, he realized that when the girl suddenly asked him if he was fine. He didn't want to reply and probably he didn't even have an answer, so he stood up. With his now wasted lunch and his books in his hands, Minho went away. He needed air. Walking through the hallways, looking for an empty space like a zombie, he didn't even notice Jisung when he bumped into him. "Minho? What's that face? Where are you going?" He had asked, probably in return from the toilet where that student had got his head into. But Minho didn't say anything, he avoided him, he neglected his friend's wishes to know where he was heading to, what was happening to him, because it wasn't worth it.

"Minho? Are you okay?" Jisung had said again, utterly bewildered, when Minho walked away without a word, ignoring him so openly it felt unreal. Minho didn't care, deep down Jisung knew what he had done, and even if he didn't, talking to him felt useless. It was useless, just like his feelings for him. So effortlessly disrespected, Minho couldn't believe he had let him treat them like pure garbage. 

After many wanderings and afflictions, Minho found a place where he could pretend to eat his lunch his peace. The stairs next to the inactive auditorium due to renovation works never accomplished, were exactly what he needed. Nobody used to go there. Finally, he was alone. He didn't feel like crying, somewhat, crying wasn't of any help lately. His phone started ringing. It Jisung. Minho didn't have any intention to talk to him. It was pointless. Everything seemed vaine at that point. He turned it off. He didn't want to hear anything from anyone. Just enjoying the silence.

"What are you doing there? That's my spot!" A voice interrupted his search for tranquillity.

"And who are you? 'Cause I don't see any names written on these stairs." Minho said, not even caring about turning around and see whose voice was that.

"Actually there's a name, but your stupid ass is sitting on it. I wrote it with a permanent marker."

"You did what?" Minho moved so he could read it. He knew it. He knew the name.

"Okay, now that you read it, make some room for me 'cause I'd like to eat this trash I made by myself to show my mother I can take care of myself, even if, obviously, I cannot. Thank you very much."

Minho moved a bit, making space for the incredibly tall guy.

"Do you want some?" He offered him a disgusting sandwich and Minho sweared to God he had seen mango and ham mixed in there.

"Not at all." He politely declined.

"That's okay. It's hideous." He said while chewing with a grossed out look on his face.

Hwang Hyunjin.

That's how his illuminating conversation with Hwang Hyunjin started.

According to Jisung's words, Hwang Hyunjin was the most popular student in their year. According to Minho's, Hwang Hyunjin was an outcast in the body of a popular student. Hyunjin was the quintessence of weird. Not because he was actually weird, he seemed pretty normal to Minho and that made him weird. When Jisung, Felix and Seungmin used to tell him stories about this dream man whose aura was able to attract every single living being, Minho had always pictured a sophisticated and picky guy, constantly obsessing over his own appearance, sure thing he had never thought Hyunjin could be so... ordinary. He ate neat trash, Minho had never seen him have something healthy for lunch; his clothes together didn't make sense, one day Minho saw him wearing a white shirt and red sweatpants, which obviously didn't match. His hair, Minho thought he had this long hair for a reason, he thought he was doing it since long hair had been considered incredibly fashion lately. Then, one day, Hyunjin told him he had this long hair because he was postponing his call to the hairdresser, since his mother didn't want to call, so he had to make the call as a real adult, but Hyunjin had this latent social anxiety and just the thought of speaking through the phone to make an appointment made him nervous, so that was it. He was sticking with his long hair. And that was an explanation Minho didn't expect at all. Hyunjin was a very well known person, but Minho soon realized he was a definitely unknown personality. He had two or three friends, Minho could state, when they weren't launching together, he was just out there, wandering with these guys Minho didn't personally know, but he recognized as popular kids as well. And yes, Minho had started having lunch with Hyunjin. The reason? He couldn't stand the Jisung plus his girlfriend combination. He never talked to Jisung about his conversation with her, he never let him know what he had found out about him and his being a pathological liar, he had just let that swipe, since the last thing he wanted was conflict. Jisung was out of reach, Minho was finally understanding it, so why keeping the drama going? Anyway, eating on the stairs with Hyunjin, had been one of his most relaxing moments so far. Classes ended and all he had to do was sit there and hear Hyunjin talking about how he discovered that watermelon and blue cheese weren't a match. Once, Minho had asked him why such a star would have wanted to eat alone on those forgotten stairs, since Minho still found the younger's desire of isolation odd. Especially in his position as golden boy. Hyunjin, in response to that question, had just shaked his head: "I don't like attentions." He had said, and he had been so eloquent with those bare four words that Minho hadn't asked for anything more. So, in conclusion, Hyunjin was effortlessly popular and Minho would have never understood how he had reached that level of fame. However, in the long term, those innocent launch breaks characterized by nothing more than small talks, quickly turned into therapy sessions and, hard to believe, Minho hadn't been the one who had started it all. Apparently, Hyunjin wasn't just a carefree and cheerful guy made of light heartedness and regular eccentricity, seemingly, Hyunjin had concerns on his own. Past noon the telephone registered when Minho found his new friend crying with the stuffing of his sandwich on the floor. Mozzarella, pistachio ice cream and a strange type of processed meat Minho hadn't been able to recognize. Hyunjin was wiping his tears with empty and unfilled slices of bread, and he had made the mistake to ask him why. That's how Minho got to know about Hyunjin's most beautiful tragedy: Yang Jeongin, or at least that was the way he had named him. Considering his deposition, Hyunjin had met this boy in the commonest way of all ways: internet. No epic first meetings, no love at first sight, none of them had been struck by a lightning, just regular social media. It all started when they had their first encounter in real life, Hyunjin told Minho he had fallen for him almost right there on the spot. In that crowded and noisy bar where they couldn't even talk properly, but the sound of the boy's voice found its way into his heart and mind anyway. Hyunjin was already into him, Jeongin seemed to care a lot about him, all those premises were predicting a sweet and tender slow burn, with the two of them eventually ending up officially dating by the end of the getting to know each other phase. Maybe a simple and boring story to tell their grandkids, but surely effective. That was what Minho had in mind until Hyunjin started to tell him the plot of the latest Dynasty episode. Hyunjin's parents had drifted apart, Jeongin's ones too, it was another thing they had in common until stories about their divorced parents weren't the only parents stuff they were sharing. It felt devastating when Hyunjin's mom introduced him her new fiancee and it felt disastrous when her mom's new boyfriend happened to be none other than Jeongin's dad. It all went worse when Jeongin and his dad had moved in, Hyunjin kept repeating the word tragedy as if he was some mythological classical hero, at the very last act of a theatrical drama, with a sword hanging over his miserable self. "We're not blood related, okay? I didn't even know him a year ago and now? Am I supposed to treat him like a brother all of a sudden? 'Cause he wants me to, but... I can't. It's messed up." Hyunjin was right, it was messed up. One confession lead to another and suddenly Minho knew everything about Hyunjin's troubled romantic life. So it didn't take too long for Hyunjin to have Minho open up about his. It felt relieving to tell him, to get things out of his chest with someone completely extraneous to their relationship and dynamic. Minho did feel as if he could finally talk with no filter; not that he he wasn't grateful for Changbin's shoulder to cry on, on the contrary he loved it and it had been of consistent help and use, but another point of view was surely appreciated. Hyunjin was a good listener, even if he had the habit of making odd questions. When Minho told him about the shore thing, for Hyunjin, it was all clear, but an interrogative kept wandering into his head: "You found sands into your underwear afterwards, right? I mean, I think it's a natural consequence of having so much going on at the beach." Minho laughed, Hyunjin wasn't wrong: once he got home, that night, he also had to deal with those intrusive and unrequited grains of sand all over his pants. Strange curiosities aside, Hyunjin had been fresh air and a friend he didn't think he needed. They grew so close in such a short span of time, that Minho didn't want to keep him apart from his historic group of friends anymore. So, the day in which Hyunjin's mates hadn't shown up at all, Minho made his offer and he did invite Hyunjin to meet the other guys. Chan had been very delighted to welcome another stray kid into his gang, Seungmin had been incredibly excited about it and so it had been Felix. Changbin's reaction had been actually surprising instead. Minho knew Hyunjin and him had slept together, a long time ago, that was why he was having doubts regarding introducing Hyunjin to the guys or not, but, somehow, his concerns had been baseless. Changbin, and Hyunjin himself, had been so chill Minho was actually amazed. They greeted each other as if they had been scouts together at the age of nine: no embarrassment, no hard feelings, they were just... cool. Minho wondered how it felt like to have sex with somebody without craps like love and romance getting in the way. Sadly, he couldn't relate. Hence, they were glad to have Hyunjin sit with them, they all thought he was a nice person and definitely a good guy, all of them had expressed joy, all of them but Jisung. The latter was totally and entirely uninterested, showing in the regards of Hyunjin a wholesome indifference. He had greeted him with nothing but a silent nod and he had stayed quiet for the whole time. That's how their first reunion had been like. Only one comment about the tall guy had left his mouth, talking to Changbin, when he thought Minho couldn't hear him, just because he had his earphones on. "Do you think that's why Minho skips lunch with us sometimes? That guy's the reason?" He had spilled sounding annoyed.

"That guy?" Changbin had replied. "Weren't you that guy's fan just a few weeks ago? Oh my God he's so popular, oh my God it must be nice hanging out with him. Oh my God he's awesome, oh my God." Changbin mocked Jisung and Minho tried hard not to laugh while he was secretly overhearing their conversation. 

"What? I never said that." Jisung felt insulted.

"You're just jealous of him."

"For what?" Jisung replied.

"For whom." Changbin smoothly suggested, pointing at Minho who was deceptively focused on his paperwork. Jisung didn't say anything. He reserved Changbin an outraged glare, he stood up and he left. A small scene, but a huge red flag anticipating nefarious developments. Minho should have known it better. Just an harmless invitation, a simple request Minho had made to his new friend had been able to set it all on fire. An apparently innocent offer had been able to resonate with an implacable, relentless and merciless force into the constant struggle Minho had been living for the past few months. His weak equilibrium, based on something as unstable as posters affixed to an unauthorized billposting area, had been threatened and put in some serious danger. What happened next made the entire prospective change. "We're going to that retro cinema theater, you know, the drive in themed one. It's tonight, so, if you wanna join us!" A mere suggestion Minho had directed to Hyunjin when the latter had complained about his lack of social activities lately. Something which nobody knew could cause an earthquake of those dimensions. Hyunjin had said yes, enthusiastic about getting Jeongin out of his mind for one night, happy with the idea of making new friends in the process. That, since the boy happened to like very much his other friends, Minho could say they all had feeling with him, all of them except Jisung, but the answer to that question was about to be revealed soon. Since Chan's minivan was highly discouraged for a night at the drive in, due to the impossibility for all of them in there to actually have a nice view of the big screen, they decided to set themselves up in pairs to fully enjoy the refreshing cinematic experience. It was obvious from the start that Hyunjin's companion for the movie would have been Minho, since he was the one who knew him a little better. That been said, Changbin offered to drive Jisung, while Chan and Felix tagged along behind Seungmin, his new car and his brand new license.

It was nice. His mind was completely free, that had been the first night since a long time in which Minho hadn't actually thought of what to wear, how to dress, he hadn't thought about Jisung, about the embarrassment he always wished he could avoid, no worries of those could be detected and Minho was feeling incredibly fine and he thought he had to thank Hyunjin sooner or later since he had been a dear friend and such a good influence on him and his rotten heart. When he drove to his house to pick him up, after texting him that he had arrived and he was, in fact, waiting for him in the courtyard, Minho noticed how clear was the view of the inside of somebody's room from that window he had spotted while he was parked down there, pending. And he would have looked away immediately if it hadn't been for someone appearing in the picture. The figure of a guy, Minho recognized as Jeongin, presumably, was vigorously gesturing at someone else while saying something Minho couldn't hear nor understand from there. An argument, Minho was sure he was having an argument with someone. A strong argument, he might've added while staring at the scene as if he was looking at a silent film. And Minho didn't feel so surprised when the silhouette of Hyunjin popped into the scene, visibly upset, shouting back in response. Those voiceless screams had been interrupted by a third character coming into the frame, probably begging them to stop fighting. A parent, Minho guessed. When Hyunjin, unquestionably late, got in the car, Minho didn't ask about anything, even if his friend's upheaval was perfectly readable on his face. "I think you should buy curtains for your window." That was all he had said, right before changing the topic to the plot of the movie they were about to see. Minho would have described it as a peaceful and quiet fun night between friends. The pleasant and soft breeze made the atmosphere even lighter, the air filled only with the laughter caused by the comedy they were watching. It was all going great, Minho was so comfortable yet distracted, that he wasn't even paying attention to a Jisung unusually quiet and taciturn. A quick greet and a few grins at some Felix's jokes had been all it came out from him that night. He accused a headache to justify his uncommon behavior, but lies stink, and, in that case, something did stink for real.

"I found it boring." Seungmin had said while they were drinking something altogether after the screening.

"Boring? I swear I saw you laughing." Chan corrected him.

"Yeah, but I was laughing because it was extremely ridiculous! And, the script was bad." He harshly judged.

"It wasn't that bad." Changbin shared while sipping that beer he had requested.

"It was unrealistic." Seungmin kept his point.

"Movies don't have to be realistic." Changbin replied. "Or else I would have picked something on History Channel, don't you think?"

"I do prefer them when they don't romanticize everything."

"What's the problem with that?" Hyunjin said and they all turned around to look at him. Even if he had spent a considerable amount of time with them in the recent weeks, the guy had always been wary of jumping directly into the conversation, always waiting for someone to ask for his opinion. Not that he didn't feel comfortable enough around them, it was just hard to slide into an already well rooted group of friends without nourishing the fear of being just an unwanted intruder and nothing more. So they all smiled from their hearts when the boy spoke, showing how he was finally starting to feel one of the guys. "I think movies have the right to give us an honest insight on society, but wouldn't they be too depressing if they just stick to that? Sometimes, reality is not even that great. A movie, on the contrary, is perfect perhaps. It makes you laugh, and cry, it makes you want to punch the screen, it makes you want to scream, it makes you forget about your life and it's wonderful, but then it ends. It reaches its dramatic edge and then, naturally and majestically, everything starts to make a little more sense. All the mysterys of life are solved and it happily ends. And it stays like that, the long waited happy ending stay. Real life doesn't work this way. Even if sometimes real life feels like a movie, this movie suddenly ends and when it does, you cannot run away, you have to stay, even after credits, and what happens after credits isn't as good as the movie narrative. What happens after credits is rough, pointless, unjust, boring, worthless. That's why there's always a blank screen after credits and nothing more: nobody wants to know what happens next, when the movie is over and the magic is gone. Nobody wants to tell. It would ruin everything. I think that's why I like watching movies so much: they're not real."

Everybody was staring at Hyunjin out of curiosity after his oddly particular and heartfelt speech. It seemed like Hyunjin had felt so much those words he had said that hebtotally caught the others out of guard, not sure of what they should have replied to him. Was Hyunjin hurting somehow? Was he so unsatisfied with his life? Was the Jeongin thing the only worry he was dealing with? Maybe not, but Minho didn't know and in order to make that intense silence, which was clearly embarrassing Hyunjin, disappear, he gave him a strong pat on his shoulder.

"So... who wants another drink?" Minho said and Hyunjin quietly raised his hand. "No one else?" Minho asked, but none of the others was in need of another round, so he took Hyunjin with himself and they both left temporary the guys at table they were all sitting at, to order something else to drink.

"Hyunjin." Minho called him all of a sudden while they were queuing for the counter. Hyunjin raised his head and he turned to Minho. "Yeah?"

"I know it's been just a few weeks, but... you can talk to me. You know that right?" Minho wanted to reassure him, making him understand that he was there for him. He had developed a fond affection for the guy, Minho considered him a friend, a real one, time didn't matter. The younger smiled, something seemed glum about it, but Minho promised himself he was going to help Hyunjin take that secluded sadness away from him. "You're a good guy, Minho."

So, it seemed like the entire night was proceeding on the right path, Minho was happy, finally indifferent to Jisung's lunacy, it wasn't his job anymore. If he wanted to keep that long face and that sad expression he was welcomed to do so. Minho wasn't going to go and rescue him, he wasn't going to live for him, to laugh for him, to cry for him. He was good, maybe free. Or, at least, close to an hypothetical emotional freedom. However, Minho didn't have to wait too long to find out that his taciturnity wasn't unmotivated. All those quick and annoyed glances Jisung had reserved to him while they were talking, while they were watching the movie, while they were just walking to the bar, that constant secretly gazing and the following quietness were not totally out of the blue. Jisung had something in mind. And Minho wished he had never found out.

He wasn't there anymore. He wasn't sitting at the table where Minho had seen him with their friends a few minutes ago. His chair was empty, but the other boys didn't look alarmed. "He needed the toilet." Seungmin had said when Minho had shown his concerns. The toilet. He just needed the toilet, then why Minho felt like something was off? Why, as soon as he came back from the counter, this strange sense of hidden danger had started rising into his chest? But, no. He didn't want to hear to that voice inside his head, he didn't want to think about him, he didn't want to chase after him when it was crystal clear that he did not care and he was never going to. He ignored that sixth sense which was screaming right into his ears, as if it was begging for Minho to listen, he kept talking and nicely chatting as if hesitancy didn't exist. Until he couldn't pretend as if nothing was about to happen anymore.

Minho heard someone politely asking something to the group of girls which was sitting right next to theirs. A car, they had said. They were asking about a car. Not that an antique type, but still old enough to look not safe at all. A black car, which had been clearly ruined by the incessant flow of time, some irremediable scratches and some places where the varnish had visibly fallen off. They were asking to these girls if they recognized the description of this vehicle, none of them reacted, but Minho did. It was, in fact, his own car. So he quickly excused himself with the guys, telling them he also felt the urge to go to the bathroom and he reached the guy who was looking for the owner of his car. He approached him, far from the eyes of his friends, he told him the car was his, he asked if there was a problem, maybe he just had to park his car somewhere else, but the reality was a completely different one.

A kid. The nice guy who had thought of warning him described as a kid the person who was standing with a sketchy appearance next to his car. A hammer. The guy had mentioned a hammer. Minho had almost fainted and he had rushed outside without even having the polite stranger finish the sentence. After all he went through, now he had to face an hooligan vandalizing his beloved car? That's the last straw, he thought. It was insane, utterly and totally insane. So he did go outside, he wanted to see with his own eyes the face of that little criminal. Was that necessary? Why did he have to ruin his night? He walked at a fast pace to his car, parked right around the corner, he was going to knock that insignificant idiot down. He saw the kid, with his hoodie on, he could see his back. In his hands there was not a hammer, it seemed more like a pocketknife, but Minho didn't feel scared. He walked straight to the guy's direction.

"Hey! Jackass! What the fuck are you doing to my car?" Minho cussed, but the guy, when caught in the act, unexpectedly froze. He didn't move. Maybe he was even holding his breath. Weird. "Hey! Do you hear me? I'm talking to you!" He said as he was getting closer to the small figure. Too small, Minho thought. Even under the electric lights of those street lamps, that smallness seemed way too familiar to be ignored. Way too lived to be forgotten.

"Jisung. What a fuck..." Minho suddenly stopped moving too. It couldn't be. It was just a moment, a few hopeless seconds in which he had prayed for the entire situation to not be what it did seem, even if he was sure he had recognized him with no margin of error. But then he turned around, slowly pulling his hoodie off, so Minho had nothing to hope for. He tried to speak, to ask him what was he doing with a knife next to his car, Minho couldn't even imagine, he couldn't even come up with a possible answer because the whole thing was crazy, Jisung, standing right there with that blunt instrument in his hands felt like pure madness. He didn't have a clue. It was unbelievable. Definitely unforeseen. But he couldn't let him get away with it. Whatever that was. "Jisung." He said again, an unsettling calmness coming out of his voice. "What are you trying to do with that knife?" It felt insane. Even the question did sound insane.

"I... I was... I was around, I mean, around your car... and I found this knife on the sidewalk, I thought it was a dangerous thing to leave on the ground and I took it, I'm..." He stuttered for the whole time. He was lying. Why was he?

"And am I supposed to believe you? You said you needed the bathroom, you were with us half an hour ago, do you think I'm stupid?" Minho's quiet tone didn't reflect the anger which was starting to rise from his guts.

"I felt sick and I thought about leaving! And I left, I was gonna call you guys to tell you, but then I saw this knife and..." Jisung tried to make up for it, but he was about to drown in his own falsehoods. 

"Jisung! I forgot to give you this! It's better than that little knife if you really want to poke out that tire!"

Horror was showing through Jisung's terrified expression when both of them witnessed Chan's neighbor Woojin, literally coming out of the blue carrying a tinkling duffle bag which left no room for interpretations. Woojin didn't notice Minho standing in front of them, until he didn't glare at Jisung's aghast face. A soundless oh left Woojin's mouth and Minho would have found the face the older had made extremely funny to watch if it hadn't been for how controversial the whole situation looked like. "You never told me the car was his." Woojin immediately stated, staring at Minho with a very much surprised look, too genuine to be fake. "You're Minho, right? I'm so sorry." He apologized, but Minho was distracted since he couldn't get his eyes off the real villain of the entire narrative.

"Jisung... why?" He breathed out, disappointment and delusion could be detected into every single letter he had just spelled. Jisung didn't reply, he was turning paler and paler as if a ghost had suddenly took possession of his body and soul. He opened his mouth, to reply, maybe, but he closed it as soon as footsteps were heard. Minho heard them too, but he didn't turn around to see whose those belonged to. Probably, he already knew and he didn't actually care at the same time. Jisung was all he could see, but there was nothing beautiful about him anymore.

"You? What are you doing here?" Minho heard Chan say, even if his voice seemed distant, muffled, as if a wall had been built between Minho and the surrounding environment. He wasn't there, on that sidewalk outside the bar where he had just had one drink or two. His friends weren't there, he was alone, inside his head, questioning whom he had put so much trust into until then. Whom he had loved, whom he had cherished the most, whom he had sweared to protect at all costs. He had blindly thought he would have never hurt him, not intentionally at least, but the events offered Minho a different truth.

"Why are you so aggressive for? This is a public space." Woojin replied bothered by Chan's instant contentiousness.

"But I happen to be in this public space! God, as if seeing you everyday in the elevator wasn't enough." Chan muttered.

"The world doesn't revolve around you. The kid called, I helped." He explained pointing at Jisung, who was still petrified, unable to speak.

"The kid? What are you? His dad?" Chan chuckled.

"I could be."

"I'm sorry, that place is taken, but you could apply for the bad influence which could ruin his life and eventually ends up in jail." Chan spit, mad.

"Do you really refer to your friends as your sons? That's problematic, you know?"

"God! Stop! I'm not anyone's son!" Jisung screamed all of a sudden, a drop of sweat coming down his temple, he was visibly shivering, strange since it wasn't even that cold. "I'm just your friend." He said, looking at everyone, but careful not to set his eyes on Minho.

"But you're not one of mine." Minho stated dry. Everyone was staring at him now. All of them blinking, trying to understand if those words had really come out of him. Jisung, on the other hand, seemed mortified. Anyway, Minho decided he didn't care. So he left. No hellos no goodbyes, he barely looked at the others when he felt the need to go away from there, to escape from those confused and interrogative stares. He just walked away, even if his car was there, he didn't care. He walked, he didn't want to go anywhere, he just wanted to leave all of them behind, Jisung behind. He didn't want to find out what he was up to, he didn't want to hear his friends' theories about his strong reaction, Minho wanted silence. But his legs weren't fast enough to take him away from him. And Minho heard him running, he heard his heavy breath, his voice calling for him. Minho heard Jisung and, even if he was just mad at him, he felt an inexplicable but massive satisfaction in knowing that, for once, it was the younger the one who was chasing him.

"What?" Minho stopped and said, probably sounding more furious than he thought he would have been. Jisung seemed intimidated by the guy's manners and he seemed hesitant for a second, probably considering turning back and leaving Minho alone, but he didn't think he could do that.

"You're right!" Jisung admitted. "I wasn't just passing around. I... I wanted to get you a flat tire. The bathroom thing was an excuse."

"Thank you for confessing the obvious, Jisung. You're so brave." Minho stated ironically and Jisung immediately tensed up. As if he wasn't sure about how to continue, as if he himself didn't know what to say. "Are you going to talk or are you gonna stand there saying nothing? I don't wanna waste my time with a liar." Minho said harshly and that seemed to wake Jisung up.

"What? I said some lies tonight, but liar? Me? A liar?" Jisung defended himself right away. Minho hated him. For the first time, he hated him.

"Why? Why wanting to do that to my car?" Minho asked directly. "And I want the truth. I don't need your bullshits."

"I was... being a friend." Jisung murmured. 

"You were being what?" Minho came off aggressive. 

"Why are you raising your voice? Yeah! I was being a friend!" He firmly replied.

"In what universe friends destroy other friends' cars?" Minho said dramatically.

"I wasn't destroying it! It was just the tire."

"Jisung, what the fuck?"

"Stop cursing at me!"

"Stop lying to me!"

Jisung closed his eyes, shaking. His fists clenched and his body trembling, suffering the inability of his owner to communicate.

"You were going to take him home with you." He suddenly pronounced, leaving Minho in a state of vague confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"That guy. You are dating him." Jisung's voice seemed suddenly empty.

"What? What guy?"

"That Hyunjin. Right?"

Minho laughed. That had to be a joke.

"You were trying to get rid of my tire, because you think I'm dating Hyunjin?"

"Is that so?" Jisung asked with an indecipherable subtle interest.

"Oh my God you're such an idiot." Minho despised him with passion.

"So you're not?" Jisung wanted to know. Minho couldn't believe it. Every time he thought expectations could not be lower, they proved him wrong. Minho didn't reply, he just looked at him in disappointment. He was torn, in that moment, he felt torn. He didn't know if he wanted to ignore Jisung and his stupid egoism there and leave, or if he wanted to get mad at him, telling him how miserable he had made him feel in the past few weeks, how of a fool he had been for thinking that, at least, Jisung cared. "Is this... a bet? A joke? Really, Jisung, what do you want from me?" He was tired. 

"A joke? What do you mean?"

"Could you just let me be? Could you just let me live? Is it too much to ask?"

"Minho, what..."

"I'm done with your nonsensical egocentric behavior." Minho stated exhausted. "I'm done with you, Jisung. Are you for real? You were being a friend? You didn't want me to take Hyunjin to my house? Really? You didn't want me to date somebody else? Are you such a manipulative and controlling jerk?"

"It's not just somebody else. It's Hwang Hyunjin and I don't trust him, or at least I don't think he is right for you."

"You don't even know him. You didn't even try. You're insane."

"I'm acting as a friend." Jisung didn't want to admit he was wrong.

"A friend? Why? Are we still friends?" Minho almost went hysterical.

"Of course we are." Jisung claimed, visibly hurt by Minho's raging question.

"No, we're not. We're not friends anymore." Minho's voice cracked as he pronounced the hard truth they were both ignoring so far: they weren't friends anymore. Jisung stared at him, empty eyes and a painful void growing inside his chest were the protagonists of his irremediable sorrow. "When it was the last time we talked? And not about kangaroos or traffic accidents. Do you remember that?" Jisung didn't answer, of course he didn't, he couldn't. He didn't remember and so didn't Minho. "I told you I loved you and you simply didn't care. And it was okay to me, 'cause I didn't want you to love me, so we can say I was almost prepared to rejection. Even if it was hard, I never let my daydreaming come between us, I didn't want to 'cause I did value our friendship. Which is no existent by now, but it's okay. So, as I said, you didn't care and it was fine to me, but sure I wasn't fine to what came next. You showed your real self, your true colours and, let me say it, they suck. You kicked me out of your life. No explanation, no warning, you just got rid of me as if I was trash, as if I hadn't been your best friend for over a year. I don't know why you did that. I thought it was my fault. I thought I had put you under too much pressure, I thought I had made things awkward between us, I thought I was guilty of that. I didn't want more, I just wanted to stay friends, but the more the days went on, the more you were distancing yourself from me, the more you were putting limits on our relationship, the more you were building walls where they had never been built before. You pushed me away, with such a facility that it shocked me to the core. You didn't want to talk to me and I was trying not to suffer from that, not suffer from your silence, from your indifference, even if I was never used to it. Even if I was used to you breaking into my house, being loud, screaming most of the times, I was used to live my life with you, I was used to live you. I thought we just needed time to heal. Although it went worse. I talked to your girlfriend, Jisung. I mean, she talked to me. I know what you said. I know that you told her lies. That I was the one keeping you away from her, that I was the poor gay best friend with this huge crush on you, this great guy whom everyone loves. I was just a hopeless wretch for you. Am I wrong?" Poison was filling the words which were being said, but also truth and probably regret for how things had gone between the two of them. Jisung was listening, staring at the ground, he didn't dare to look at him nor reply. What could he have said? What?

"It hurt, you know. Because it felt like you were embarrassed of me, of us. Wait, I don't even know if I can talk about a us, but it hurt. I didn't expect you to tell your girlfriend the truth, nor I didn't expect you to tell her you weren't being honest with her because you were busy having your dick sucked by me, but I expected a little bit of respect, for me, for my feelings. I was wrong from the start, when you asked me that famous question. I made a mistake by agreeing on that, because I was in love with you already, and I never told you this before. I thought I could have handled it, besides I didn't want you for me, I just wanted to stay with you. I thought I couldn't end up being hurt, because you weren't going to do that on purpose, but you did. You cut me out of your life and I had to deal with that on my own. Until I met someone who made me forget about me and my problems for a bit. A friend, because if you're asking: I'm not dating him. He's my friend, unlike you. And the fact that the mere idea of a relationship between Hyunjin and me had made you act like this, shows how pathetic and selfish you are. You wanna be loved, but you're not able to give love to anyone, you care about yourself and yourself only. At this point, I'm starting to think that you never loved me, not even as a friend. And once I get over you, you come back, telling me whom I can and whom I cannot date? I'm done with you, Jisung. Seriously, I'm done." Every word pronounced smelled like liberty to him. Every word said broke an abstract chain holding his heart, strangling it, every single word could be spelled as freedom. He had told him. There was nothing to add. Minho decided it was time to leave, to go home, he didn't want to hear Jisung's apologies and the latter didn't even intend to respond, probably. So he took a step ahead, ready to leave it all behind.

"Minho, don't go." Jisung whispered, a beg, he was begging him not to go, but it didn't make sense. Minho didn't listen to him, he kept walking, but that didn't stop Jisung's prayers, he didn't want him to leave, not at all. "Jisung, please. I can't do this anymore." Minho replied, he didn't intend to reconsider his decision. Jisung reached him where he was standing. Minho sensed him walking behind his back and he turned around. His eyes seemed teary, or maybe they were just reflecting the streetlights. Minho couldn't tell.

"Jisung, let me go. I don't wanna let you make me feel things anymore." His voice was softer, sweeter somehow, as if he had never made that cruelly honest and hurtful speech only a few minutes ago. Minho had reached his own peace, he was ready to let go. "What if I don't want you to stop? What if I want you to feel something for me?" Jisung was insane, it looked like a mad man talking. What did that mean?

"What? Stop acting as if it's everything about you. I told you, I'm done." Minho felt hurt. It was absurd that, after all they had been through, after all he had told him, he was still begging for Minho to love him even if he would have never loved him back.

"I don't wanna lead you on! Minho, please!"

Desperate. Jisung seemed desperate now.

Minho couldn't get it.

"Then what?" 

"I..." Jisung started, but something was holding him back. He was struggling, not even able to speak, meanwhile a headache was torturing Minho's patience. It was getting too hard, too heavy, he had had enough. "Jisung, please, let me..."

"I feel something."

Three words, shouted in the dark of a dead end street at night, next to speedometers, cars and trashcans. Three words perceived by Minho's mind both as an act of war and a revolutionary hymn. All his life, he had never thought about how would it feel to live a moment like that, all his life, he had never even dared to imagine those three words coming to life. The castle of his certainties fell and faded under the weight of a reality way more surprising, a reality he had never even considered, if not in his wildest dreams. And as if the gods themselves had just blown life into his system, emotions he seemed to have forgotten appeared again in all their glory. Wonder, amazement, astonishment, hope, faith, the whole world around him seemed to be colored again. He feared that sensation, he feared the irrational joy he felt. "What do you mean?" Minho whispered, his eyes lost, looking at the boy who had just talked. 

"I have feelings for you, Minho and I'm sorry." He said with a broken voice. "I think I'm scared."

Minho didn't move. He didn't step back nor he did get closer. He waited.

"You're right I... I told her lies. I made all those things up, I am sorry I did that to you, but I was afraid. I didn't want her to know, I... I didn't want her to think of me in a certain way, I... I didn't wanna let her think of me like that and I ended up lying. She's not stupid, so she noticed we were spending lot of time together, but I didn't want her to suspect anything, I mean she didn't even ask me, but I felt I owe her an explanation, but I couldn't tell her the truth, because I wanted her to stay with me. So I lied, because it's easier. You know, I... I think I lied to you too. Damn, you're right I'm a pathological liar." Jisung bitterly laughed. "I think it was the night of the party, the day I started lying to you. Yeah, I think that's it. When I was crying and you came to me, reassuring me, telling me I was worthy of love and attention, I think that's when it clicked to me. But I think that lies came after the kiss, after my odd request, after you said yes and then it became a habit I had, lying to you, maybe lying to me too. I don't know what changed in me, I don't think something changed in me and thanks to that I started having feelings for you. It felt like those feelings had always been there, they were just awakening or something, like a bear after winter, marmots in spring and all those national geographic shits. I felt fine everytime we were together, but everytime you left me, everytime I was alone with myself, I was scared. The more we spent time together the more I got scared, but I could handle that. I didn't know where that fear was coming from, but I surely knew I was gonna suppress it. But it was growing inside of me and then she broke up with me and it grew stronger and it was strangling me and I couldn't breathe. And I got anxious and frightened and I couldn't sleep 'cause everytime I tried to close my eyes, my heart just started beating so fast it felt like I was having a stroke or something and I tried everything: herbal tea, infusions, meditation, I tried meditation, but it got worse. You called me afterwards, we had that thing, we went to McDonald's and then you told me those words and, unconsciously, you showed me my fear: liking you. Liking you as more than a friend I guess. Because I was happy when you told me. I mean, you couldn't see it, but I was happy, like that was what I was looking for, like I was waiting for it and I was happy, but I was afraid of being so happy and I thought I shouldn't be so happy, I couldn't, so I lied. I lied to you, saying I didn't feel the same, I lied to her, accepting to get back together as soon as she asked. I lied 'cause I felt guilty of being happy."

Minho was trying to process all those totally unexpected informations.

"I mean, you guys know. You, our friends, you all know. You and that guy I dated for like two days, yeah, him too, but nobody knows. She doesn't know, my family doesn't know, people don't know and I don't know what to do. It's not like I don't accept myself, I accepted myself a long time ago, and I thank you for being part of my acceptance process, but I'm terrified of others. I'm terrified of what they might say, but I'm terrified of what they might not say the most. I'm terrified of them, looking at me, saying they're okay with it, but thinking of me differently, pitying me, disliking me, being grossed by the idea of me. I feel sick everytime I think about how my parents would react, I feel sick everytime my voice crack when I try to say it out loud, I feel sick for feeling like this. I feel sick for feeling ashamed of freely expressing myself. I feel sick because I'm a disappointment to everybody and this would be just another excuse for them to consider me a total failure. And I despise myself for coming up with these things, I despise myself for being so terrorized by something which I know I should deal with, but lying, staying with her and ignoring how happy you make me feel, it feels safer. And I act so progressive and cool with everyone, so confident and bold, but then what? Then I hate myself, because at the end of the day I truly hope to end up with a girl, so I won't have to explain myself with my parents. At the end of the day I hate myself because I'm a liar, a scam and a fraud. At the end of the day I hate myself and I'm sorry I hurt you, you didn't deserve that and maybe I am selfish. I wish you could forgive me."

"Jisung, I didn't know, I'm sorry." Minho dared to say, but somehow, even speaking seemed inappropriate after that. "But... What... I mean... what does this mean, then?"

"I like you Minho, but I can't." Tears were now streaming down Jisung's face.

"You can't?" Minho said and it hurt.

"I can't."

And it hurt more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! I wanted this chapter to be the end, but when the 20k words appeared, I thought that no, this wasn't the end. Anyway, istg the next chapter will be the end, and probably it will be shorter than the previous ones. What can I say, this is a mess, thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you! Let me know if you're enjoying this so far! It really means a lot to me!


	4. James Joyce's Epiphany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to split this last chapter in two parts, so I lied, but I actually didn't 'cause in my head it's still one chapter, sorry for any mistake, I'm the beta reader of myself so it's hard LMAO

Minho was right: Jisung was acting selfish.

But deeper than that, Jisung was selfish, and he knew that. He just didn't want to admit why. He would have never wanted to confess why he was so egoistic, because acknowledging the origin of his definitely questionable behavior, would have meant putting in danger the entire system built inside his mind. It would have meant doubting of a series of concepts and morals he had always found disturbing, but he had never found the strength to fight. It would have meant finally cutting those poisonous roots and seeing with his own eyes that the flowery tree, he had nourished and watered so carefully and with so much attention, was indeed corrupt, rotten, already dead. Acknowledging his mistakes, and the reasons behind them, would have meant destroying that idealistic, utopian and unrealistic reality he had thought it would have been ideal for him, a life he had thought it would have been perfectly fitting for him, and so creating a dimension where he could safely say he belonged to. He had proceeded, all his life, in order to achieve that, a land of peace and certainty, a place where doubts and rethinking were forbidden, an impeccable and unassailable outward appearance, a fortress, a shield. A shield which would have defended him, and with that shield he could have protected himself from the sickness of the outside world, but soon that shield he had found for himself wasn't protecting him anymore. On the contrary, he was just concealing himself behind that shield, refusing to fight, refusing to live, refusing to face the pathetic fallacy of his own world, the one he had caged himself into. He was looking away, he was pretending he couldn't see, he was hiding and there's no glory in hiding. An understatement leading the causes of his problematic attitude back to one thing, just one thing, since Jisung didn't think of himself as a saint, a martyr or a poor miserable wretch, victim of an inexorable ideological system. Growing up, Jisung had the chance to see the world, confront himself with other voices, other visions, Jisung probably had alternatives, he probably had a choice, but choosing meant taking sides and choosing where to stand could have caused changes, unexpected consequences and earthquakes and losses. But Jisung... Jisung didn't want to disappoint anybody, he didn't want to lose anybody, so Jisung didn't want to choose. But not choosing is also a choice and, sooner or later, he would have experienced the unstoppable effects and the relentless outcome which were going to crash him down. Jisung used to think of the environment he lived in as one of the most liberal and honest ones a human being could ask for. Their parents were just... caring. They never let him complain, not because they didn't want to hear him, but because he literally never complained, he had nothing to complain about. They were always there for him, raising him so attentively Jisung's early life never lacked of anything. Even when his nine years old self had asked them for the most absurd request an infant could have made, they never brushed it off. They nodded, they said yes and they did it: a zebra. Knowing too well their son's interest in wild animals, they had talked personally to the manager and supervisor of the zoo, so Jisung could meet the zebra, one of the animals he loved the most. They didn't even get mad, when that day, he intentionally eluded his parents and the surveillance officers of the park, to stay with zebras all night long, convinced, that at some point, one of them would have talked, just like his favorite one: Marty from Madagascar. And when the day after, Jisung's parents had showed up again, after his short stay at the zebras house, tears streaming down their faces as they had spent the entire night looking for him, thinking some bad guy had kidnapped their son, they just hugged him, desperately and strangely affected by what had happened. Jisung still remembered vividly how tight his mother's grip on him had been, how shaken his father had seemed at the mere idea of his son being alone somewhere, in danger, without his beloved parents. How much they seemed to care for him, that day, when he was a nine years old only, a child, none other than a kid. Jisung was sure they did care. And he used to see them as these spectacular and infallible people who would have never let him behind, who would have loved him, always, despite of everything, it didn't matter how harsh things could have turned. His personal heroes, his own gods, how could they do wrong? But things changed and he didn't want to admit it. Things changed especially because he didn't want to admit it. Teenage years hadn't been easy for anyone, and Jisung could say he wasn't one of the few exceptions. Suddenly it felt like they had stopped considering him their son, suddenly he wasn't their son anymore. Bad grades, a tendency of skipping classes, verbal fights with the teachers, slow pace of learning, no friends. Except for the guy who sold strawberries outside the building of his school. Jisung didn't know why he had decided to sell strawberries outside a middle school, but apparently his dream was to make enough money to open his own fruit shop and to demonstrate to the world that a diet low in vegetables was possible, not because he did hate vegetables, but because he hated the system they were part of. "The vegetables industry is corrupted, they sell us this food, this healthy food, and they tell us it's green. They tell us most of the vegetables are green coloured, but they're not. When you eat a vegetable, your sense of colors starts fading away. You start seeing green everywhere. That's why half of the world is so into environmental causes nowadays. They made us eat those vegetables and now the only color we see is green. They made us daltonic. We're colorblind because of the vegetables industry, we have to fight against it." He was the only one Jisung could talk to without the constant anxiety of not being accepted, but soon the man had been arrested because he had no right to sell his fruit out there without an authorization from the townhall committee. So Jisung had lost his only way to have a contact with another human being. The more he grew up, the more Jisung realized his parents were leaving him behind. Disappointment, frustration, delusion, apathy, that's what Jisung started seeing on the face of the people he had learned to look up to the most. His father, the man with whom he loved to talk to, had suddenly become distant, cold, judgmental, he didn't trust Jisung, not even once. When Jisung told him he didn't enjoy hanging out with his schoolmates because they were always making fun of him and his stuttering, he had always brushed it off by saying it was is fault, he was just being too picky about his friendships. When Jisung told him he was trying so hard at school, that he was putting a strong effort on it, that he was doing everything in his powers to succeed, but he just couldn't do it, he didn't believe him. It was his fault. Jisung was being a crank, a slacker, according to his own father. He didn't even take back his words when, thanks to this wonderful teacher, Jisung had found out about his neurological disorder: his dyslexia. Jisung did remember how relived he felt finally getting to know he wasn't stupid at all, his brain just worked a little bit differently, but then there was his father who wasn't even sorry. And even if later on, he had stopped blaming Jisung directly for his not so decent grades, he had never apologized. Not even once. But that had been only the tip of the iceberg. When Jisung reached high school, nothing changed, except the fact that he was finally able to talk to people without all that incessant mumbling which had embarrassed him in the first place. He didn't have actual friends, but there was a few people to hang around with and then there had been this guy. A boy from his little group of schoolmates, a nice guy Jisung did think, he was sure they would have been real friends if it hadn't been for the events which had followed. Jisung had never been the main character, that was for sure. He had never been the superhero fighting injustice, being loved and appreciated by everyone in the city. Jisung had never stood up for others, simply because he had never had the chance to do so, he had always been an outcast of the society, far from where the lives of the people were forming, stepping forward and taking place. He had always been a lone wolf, someone would say, because of the circumstances, but he wasn't feeling like one anymore. Not after what had happened with this guy. He was a transferred student, new to the environment just as much as Jisung was. New to all those social contractures the system promoted. He was smart, witty, a fun person to deal with, Jisung didn't feel awkward with him and it was a whole new experience for him, who had always been uncomfortable even with his own shadow. They're instant friendship hadn't last long though, just a couple of weeks, maybe three. Something happened in between. One day, this guy, showed up at school dressed in a way most of the people there would have found inappropriate. It was just a skirt, not even a short one. A blue skirt not even that remarkable or noticeable, but since a boy was wearing it, it had been incredibly eye catching indeed. Jisung could still vividly remember that day, even living it all over again in his own mind. A neverending tape, constantly available for him to watch. The insults, the slanders, the obscenities his classmates were addressing to this guy who was wearing a mere piece of clothing. Jisung couldn't understand. Then the initial slap, the rough fist fight, the cold hard ground, the blood rivulet streaming from his injury down his face. Jisung hadn't even said much, his stance hadn't even been that heroic or unforgettable. Jisung did not feel strong nor powerful when he got in between the boy's face and the raging fist, he didn't feel a superhuman when he told them to stop harassing him for something such insignificant as a skirt. He didn't feel glory nor honour firing up his soul when his face hit the sidewalk after the punch which got him a broken lip. Emptiness and sadness, that's what he felt when he realized that, living in that society, in that messed up world of theirs, out there, nobody was free. When the school called his parents, Jisung got lucky his mother was the only one reachable that day. He didn't even want to think about his father's reaction if he had known about why Jisung had been dragged into a fight in the first place. He could recollect his mother crying out of fear while they were sitting in the waiting room of the hospital to get stitches on Jisung's bloody wound. She cried, but she didn't say a word. Even when Jisung tried to explain to her why he had decided to speak up against the injustice he was being a witness of. Zero response, just an obvious and deep discouragement painted on her face. They ended up spending the entire night, sitting on those skanky and rusty chairs of that dirty and overcrowded emergency room, waiting for a doctor to make his split lip stop copiously bleeding. Jisung had closed his eyes around midnight, he did remember, he wasn't sleeping, just resting since he was starting to feel the fatigue of the day. Then a deep breath, a profound sobbing and whispered words, apparently innocent, which had Jisung hope to never open his eyes again: "Why can't you just be... normal again?" His mother had said, pure sorrow in his voice as she was caressing his son's hair, and it was that sincere tone the thing that hit Jisung the most. Normal. He had to be normal again. Because right now, he was breaking his mother's heart.

Normal.

Normal had been the keyword for his whole life after that night. Normal had been the impulse which had led him to take decisions. Normal had been that unknown force which had pushed him into his college career, even if he had never liked it. Normal had been the parameter which had made him value the reassuring presence of a girlfriend beside him so much. That night, when the nurses came in and the doctor, carefully closed his wound with the stitches, Jisung did the same with his heart. Locking it inside a cage into his chest, then proceeding to hide it into the profoundness and the deepness of his soul. His heart, his feelings, his true self forgotten in the name of that so desired and much needed clove of ordinariness. Jisung wasn't going to bleed anymore. That had been the promise he had made to himself. When he came back to classes, the boy wasn't there. Nobody ever saw him again, rumors had it he had changed school, people said he had basically run away from their high school. Jisung didn't look for him. He didn't even search for him on the internet or any kind of social media. He simply forgot about him, or at least, he pretended to. School was still hell, but Jisung had something in mind, something which was pushing him forward, not giving up on his previous intentions. He wanted to get into college. He worked hard every day for years, even if the results weren't completely satisfying, even if he'd rather drink an entire can of expired milk than spending his nights with his head on the textbooks. And after weeks over weeks of physical solitude and emotional loneliness, Jisung had made it to his final year of high school. Not the most brilliant student of his course, but not such a waste to not be accepted into the university he had made a request for. Happiness lighting up the face of his parents when they got the news that their son had made it. The extraordinary joy his mother had felt when Jisung told her he was making friends, that he wasn't alone anymore. The impressive relief his father had sensed when his son had finally found a girlfriend for himself. Jisung was fine, Jisung was exactly where he was supposed to be, surrounded by everything that was commonly known and socially acceptable. In the eyes of his parents, Jisung was normal again. It didn't matter if he had given up on himself, it didn't matter if, in front of them, he had abandoned all those things he had always cared about, but which had been considered too childish and utterly idiotic by his own parents. As long as Jisung had this happy face drew on himself, as long as Jisung didn't get into troubles, as long as Jisung didn't ruin their family image with irreversible shame, everything was fine. He stopped listening to the echoes of his heart, prisoner of his own self, hiding himself behind the appearance, he was staring at this broken mirror, but he could not see his reflection. Seeking for so said normality, craving that appreciation he had never recieved, Jisung had disappeared. He did see nothing, not even a stranger, not even the pale shadow of the person he could have been, he saw nothing inside that mirror, he was losing himself, he was living a life which wasn't his, everything seemed distant, as if he was detaching himself from the core of his soul, as if he was dissolving and melting himself in a mix of acid and lies. He was murdering Jisung, the real one, but still, he didn't want to stop. So he was drowning, more and more in that toxic chemical compound. He was about to give up, he was about to stop holding his breath and finally breathe in to let his lungs dive into it and welcome that fictional mendacity he had built around himself. Jisung was letting go, he was loosening the grip on reality. His eyes were already closed, hostages of no one but the blind fortune, when he saved him. Jisung had already accepted his meaningless and pointless destiny, when Minho had come to rescue him. Minho had grabbed his hand and he had helped him reaching the surface again. A friend, finally a friend, who didn't want him to be someone else, a friends who didn't thought his enthusiasm over different species of insects was stupid, for the first time, Jisung had found himself a friend, a real one. Minho listened to him, Minho always tried his best to understand him, Minho didn't judge him, Minho made him laugh, Minho didn't make questions when Jisung let himself cry in front of him, Minho just hugged him tight, keeping words for a later moment when Jisung was ready to talk. Minho didn't push him into doing something he was uncomfortable with, but Minho encouraged him outdoing himself every time. Ever since they met, Minho had wanted nothing from Jisung. Minho was pure, something pure Jisung had always underestimated. Minho just wanted to stay by his side. Minho didn't hesitate, Minho only wanted Jisung in his life. That was why he didn't think twice before introducing him to his friends, Minho wanted Jisung to be part of his world, at first, it was like that. But soon, without Jisung even realizing, he wasn't just a part of his world, Jisung had become Minho's world. His choice, someone would have thought. Jisung wasn't guilty of his friend falling for him, he hadn't even noticed that. It was later on, when Jisung himself had fallen for him.

It hadn't been a slow process. Jisung hadn't grown his feelings, day by day. It hadn't been calm, subtle, how he felt towards Minho hadn't shown up at a steady pace. It didn't happen gradually just like a beautiful butterfly coming out as a result of his wonderful evolution inside its chrysalis. It had been abrupt, and violent, and rough, and sudden, and scary. It all started that night, at the party. Before the latter, Jisung thought he finally had all the answers. Life couldn't get any better. After years and years, struggling with himself and what people around him expected from him, he had made it. He had found his balance inside that misleading environment he had created. He had built a bridge, between what people wanted and what he wanted for himself. On one side, his perfect mask: a college student, not that popular, but surely respectable, a regular partner by his side and the blessing of his parents. On the other side, his self: his real friends, his having come to terms with his sexuality, his videos of animals on youtube, his jokes and how he had no fear of passing as the dumb one since nobody had ever even dared to think of him in such a way, his laughter, his tears, the nights spent at Chan's, eating doubtful ice cream flavors made by the landlord himself, all of them sleeping on the floor, disgustingly sharing the same toothbrush, looking at ceiling letting their secrets wander through the living room as they confessed them, and then Minho. The one who had made him realize a reality where he could live freely was possible. The one who had given him a reason to be himself. The one who trusted him so much, Jisung had started to believe in himself again. Minho had been the one who had gifted him with unconditional and undying love and support, and Jisung hadn't even had to ask. Minho had suddenly become the key, the driving force of his new and honest existence. Minho was his world too, but not the only one. Jisung thought he could have kept those separate. He naively thought that they would have never collided as much as he had done his best to live between them. Not getting sucked into one of the twos. Those were distinct and parted entities which worked, they always had. But that night at the party, things started blurring and the fake equilibrium he had reached had fallen along with Jisung's brutal discovery: he had feelings for Minho. One kiss was all it took for him to realize that the reason why he always felt like something was missing despite his efforts. All his life, he had walked through the streets like an half sleep zombie with no consciousness nor will, this until he had met him, in that skanky and lonely parking lot. And when their lips met and their bodies had come to such a closeness and Jisung's heart had finally reacted, breaking out of his cage, destroying every single chain which had locked it in there in the first place, finally beating again, pumping blood and life through Jisung's veins, that unclear fog haunting his judgment had disappeared. Jisung could finally and completely see. Jisung had never felt something so strong before Minho, as if his senses had always been put in stand by since he wasn't authorized to feel such a groundbreaking feeling. His ideal world where he could be himself was taking over the grayish one where he thought he was the headmaster, but he was being nothing but a prisoner. Kissing Minho did mean unlocking sensation after sensation he didn't even think he could feel. Kissing Minho felt real. He wasn't hiding anymore. While kissing him, Jisung was free, Jisung was alive.

He loved him. Jisung realized suddenly and immediately right away. That's what scared him the most. How honest and certain his feeling was. How quickly and easily that came to the surface, how hard it had been to progressively hide it underneath. How powerful those feelings must had been to knock down that cemented wall around his unapproachable fort. Jisung loved Minho, but loving Minho also meant throwing away uncountable strains and countless sacrifices. Loving Minho wasn't an option. He couldn't let himself love him. Even if that was his only escape from the miserable existence he was living. But somehow, the feeling was so strong he couldn't resist it and he learned how he could not deprive himself of it. He needed him. Jisung needed Minho, but he couldn't give himself to Minho. It would have been too dangerous, extremely risky. Jisung couldn't let his castle fall. That was when he started lying. That was when Jisung, in his everlasting mission of pleasing others, started hurting the only one who loved him in the intrinsic sense of it. So, Minho was right: Jisung was selfish. And he knew it.

When he got home that night, after his failed attempt to vandalize Minho's car, after their public confrontation in front of their friends, after the argument that it followed, after his confession with its bittersweet tones. After Minho had walked away, silent and heartbroken. He didn't even wish him a goodnight. He didn't even say goodbye. When Jisung got home he knew things had changed for good. He saw that into the lack of messages from him. Every time they argued, even over silly things, Minho sent him a message afterwards. It never a was a significant message, sometimes he didn't do more than typing an emoji, usually an angry one, and press his thumb on send. It didn't matter how serious their discussion had been, Minho would have always sent him a raging emoji. But not this time, and Jisung didn't blame him. He could not rewind time, he could not prevent that tragedy from happening. Jisung and his selfish fear had dragged him down the seabed of his deceitfulness. Jisung did see Minho as a chance of finally breathing, but he was stealing his air, he was a thief, choking the boy he loved to death. Jisung had been nothing, but a parasite on his best friend body, a virus inside his lungs, taking advantage of the sincerity of the feelings he nourished towards him. Jisung knew Minho returned his sympathies, Jisung knew Minho would have protected him until the end of time. Jisung exploited Minho's kindness, destroying his faith in him. That, because he had to save his face. That, because one thing was feeling the excitement of a forbidden love, one thing was facing the consequences of a choice. Jisung wanted to call him, he wanted to scream so his voice would have soundes as desperate as his devastating emotions to the other side of the phone. Jisung wanted to apologize, to tell him how sorry he felt. Again, and again, all over again. Jisung knew Minho would have forgiven him. He had always done that. So, he would have forgiven him, and then what? Jisung couldn't give Minho what he deserved, no matter how much he loved him, Jisung would have ended up hurting him again, maybe even more. Jisung couldn't stay by his side in broad daylight, Jisung couldn't show how deeply he cared for him. Jisung couldn't be what Minho needed. He would have liked to, he could have been it, but the fear he felt was agony, a terrifying menace. Jisung wasn't ready to love. That's why he didn't want Minho to forgive him. Not so easily. He didn't want to give Minho reasons to keep his door open for him. He loved him and he had hurt him, but he didn't want to do that anymore. Even if he wanted to hear his voice, even if needed him what they had was overly dysfunctional and Jisung had to stop. So, he put his phone away. He turned it off. Laying on his bed, alone, staring at the ceiling, finally doing something selfless for the first time since months.

Jisung didn't call him that night.

Jisung didn't try to talk to him, the next day, when Minho was clearly avoiding him.

Jisung didn't get mad, when Minho spoke to him only if necessary.

Jisung didn't oppose, when Minho started looking more and more like a memory to him.

Jisung let it happen. 

Jisung let himself drown.

____________________

A few weeks. A month. 

Maybe a month and a half.

The amount of time it took for Minho and Jisung to turn into perfect strangers.

They still saw each other, they had the same friends, it was unthinkable to consider the chance of not seeing each other at all. They weren't ignoring each other, indeed. They were fully aware of the presence of the other, they acknowledged that. But this time it was different since they had decided it didn't matter. They were able to spend an entire day all together, without caring about it so much. And Jisung had to say that Minho had been incredibly great at leaving him behind. Never he would have looked hesitant, never he would have seemed regretful. Minho had proceeded to completely erase Jisung from his life and in such a successful way that he wasn't even bothered every time he had to speak to him, for the most insignificant things such as asking for the time or passing him the salt. Jisung, on the other hand, played along, not that it wasn't hurting, but he thought of it as his punishment for all the pain he had caused him. Minho had the right to forget Jisung, whatever the cost. Their friends had surely noticed how things had cooled off between them and then how they had started treating each other differently, they had all witnessed the opening act of their following argument that night, and knowing so, they had all unanimously approved to not comment about Minho and Jisung's situation, at least, not in front of them. They knew and they could see this giant elephant in the room, but they were not going to talk about it. Their friends' code of silence had been a relief for both of them. Letting those two naturally drift apart.

"Jisung, please, I am busy!"

"Then why you agreed on that? And why do I have to be liable for your carelessness?"

Jisung didn't think that was a scheme, a conspiracy. No, he didn't, but damn: Seungmin knew. Everyone knew. So why asking him?

"Jisung, it takes you two minutes! It's not like I'm sending you to war!"

"I don't wanna do that anyway! Ask him to delay whatever he has to do!" Jisung did get mad.

"He can't delay, Jisung. Last day is today." Seungmin said as someone who hadn't the intention to accept a negative response.

"Last day for what? Then ask someone else, you know this isn't just about me." Jisung told him, now whispering in that overcrowded hallway. Seungmin was nervously playing with his keychain, only wanting Jisung to stop complaining and do what he had gently requested him. "I know this isn't just about you, but aren't you two grown ups? It's a simple commission. He has to return a book and the deadline is today. You gotta go to the library with him and that's it. Literally a few minutes. I've already asked around and nobody is available."

"So I have to do this."

"Yes, Jisung, you have to do this. Can you?" Seungmin gave a look at his wristwatch, his foot moving and keeping the pace of his evident agitation. "Seungmin, are you okay?" Jisung asked, so suddenly when he realized his friend was way too tensed.

"It's nothing, really. A family issue and I can't be late." Seungmin replied. Jisung hadn't been convicted at all, but he let it slide anyway. "I'll go with him." He surrendered at his friend's obvious distress call.

"Thank you, Jisung. You're the best." Seungmin gave him a kiss on the cheek before running down the hallway reaching for the exit door. Jisung didn't even have the time to clean Seungmin's saliva off his face that a too recognizable voice for being the one of a stranger, called for him.

"Where did Seungmin go? We had to go to the library together." Minho was telling Jisung from a safe distance, while showing off this book he had in his right hand.

A few minutes.

Just a commission. 

A service charge.

Minho and him weren't a thing anymore.

Why was he so anxious about it?

"He had a family emergency." Jisung told him.

Minho blinked. "Got it." Then silence fell over them. It was the moment to tell him that Jisung was the one who would have walked him to the library. He didn't know why Minho needed company to go there, but he had promised Seungmin that. Too much silence, even if it was full of young students talking and screaming all around them. It was just the two of them, for the first time in over a month. Jisung hated how voiceless he felt, as if some freaky scientist had ripped his vocal cords off in order to insert them into an insane artificial body he had created, hoping it could come to life, playing God in the back of his secret laboratory. And worst thing: Minho seemed uncomfortable too.

"I can come with you." Jisung grasped the nettle, swallowing down his anxiety. "Seungmin told me you needed him for a book thing and he's sorry he had to run away like that, so he asked me. It's not like... I mean, I can help." He explained briefly feeling the unease threatening his throat during the whole sentence. Minho froze, or at least Jisung saw him tense up for a moment. "Jisung, don't worry, I..."

Jisung. It had been a while since Jisung had heard his name coming from Minho's lips. He hated how he missed it. Then Minho paused, probably realizing himself how long it had been since he had addressed Jisung directly. An eternity, a month. It felt the same.

"Okay." Minho seemed to change what his statement would have been. "Thank you."

Their walk to the library seemed pretty long. Maybe it felt like it since Jisung was always trying not to get too close to him, even if they were basically sliding between the large amount of people infesting the college that day. It felt weird, to stay with him without anyone else around. Jisung wasn't used to it anymore and he cursed at himself when the picture of Minho and him all alone, reminded him every single moment they had spent together. From the silliest things, as unclogging the toilet before Chan could notice and realize that Minho and him had thrown away his strange vegan pie, which tasted like cooked socks; to the most intimate ones, like the first time they had fallen asleep together, on Minho's couch, while watching a stupid programme about people who lived inside their cars. The day after, Jisung had woken up to the smell of something being baked inside the oven. He had smiled, thinking about Minho making breakfast for him. Then he found out that his best friend was burning his own notes, going through a mental breakdown because of an exame he didn't feel prepared to face. Absurdities aside, Jisung still cherished that moment, even if he had never told Minho.

"I know you wanna ask me why I can't return this book to the library by myself." Minho's voice interrupted Jisung's trip down memory lane. "So I'm gonna tell you right away, 'cause I need you to be totally serious about this."

Jisung nodded, caught out of guard by Minho's sudden eloquence.

"The librarian hates me." Minho claimed.

"Does he?" Jisung sensed some craziness in that affirmation.

"He does. Every time I bring him a book I borrowed, he smiles, he makes me sign the papers and then, the day after, he doesn't let me take more than one book because he says that I still owe him books I've already given to him." Minho explained.

"If I were you I'd beat him up."

"Jisung, he's sixty." Minho held a laugh rolling his eyes and Jisung would have been a liar if he had dared to say he didn't miss that.

"Then I would gently beat him up with his walking stick." He corrected himself.

"He walks fine."

"Not for long." Jisung chanted playfully. Minho gave him a look. No, Minho gave him the look. The one he used to give to him when he couldn't indulge Jisung's foolish behavior, but he wasn't even going to scold him since, deep down, he enjoyed it too. And Jisung felt like dying when he realized how lifeless he had felt without him. But he had to resist, Minho felt definitely better without him. Jisung had to give him his space, his time. He wasn't going to put his wellbeing on the front lines, not again. So he got quiet and even if Minho did notice the sudden change of mood, he restrained himself from asking. He didn't want to fall again. He didn't want to misstep. Jisung knew it and he accepted it. They were not friends nor other than that. So they reached the library, walking distant from each other, but not more distant than their minds and souls. The library was silent. An ocean of heads bowed down on giant and enormous academic thesis and publications. Once in a while, a voice could be heard from the table furthest from the entrance: a girl was lip synching a song and she wasn't realizing that the sound was still coming out of her mouth. A guy was recording her little show with his phone, but she didn't seem to be aware of that. Grains of dust were tickling Jisung's nose, reminding him why he never came there. Pens writing notes down, teeth nibbling pencils, intellectual whisperings about physics theorems and historical facts, creaking chairs and people who were playing Candy Crush on their phones, there just to take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere of that room. Jisung and Minho waited for the man who had caused to the latter so much trouble. Even so, the librarian wasn't showing up. A few minutes, then a quarter. But when half an hour had passed, they knew something was wrong.

"Minho, I don't wanna pressure you, but... where is he?" Jisung tried.

"Do you think I know?" Minho replied nervous. "God, really, where is he? I need those books." He looked around in disbelief.

"Maybe we can come back another day? Like, tomorrow?" Jisung proposed since all that dust was truly testing him and his allergy. He felt the urge to sneeze, but then it vanished as it came.

"The library is closed for the entire week, but today. We can't come tomorrow. I knew it, I'm gonna fail this freaking midterm evaluation." Minho couldn't believe it. "I don't know what to do. I'm sorry I made you come with me here."

"It's okay, it's not like I had... hold on." Jisung stopped when he stepped on something on the floor. A suspicious crack came from under his shoe. "What?" Minho frowned confused. Then Jisung crouched down to analyze what he had just crushed. "So?" Minho kept asking, while Jisung was handling and studying the object of interest.

"Minho."

"Yeah?"

"I think I solved the case." Jisung lit up when he pronounced those few words.

"Which case?"

"The mysterious case of the pasta stealer." Jisung said and then he walked away with this damaged piece of pasta between his fingers. "What are you so cryptic for?" Minho felt the headache coming in, but still, he decided to follow Jisung.

"His office is at the back of the library, right? Next to the emergency door which leads to the parking lot, am I wrong?" Jisung said while both of them were walking at a strangely high pace trough those impressive, massive and intimidating bookshelves, overflowing with knowledge.

"I guess so. Why? What are you doing?"

"You'll see."

"Jisung, no." Minho grabbed his wrist to make him stop with his sudden heroic initiative. Jisung, abruptly interrupted, turned around to see what Minho wanted from him and he would have lied once again if he had said that being so close to him wasn't affecting him at all. Minho's eyes were looking right into his, with such a confidence Jisung had never seen in him. He wasn't the Minho he first met, he wasn't the Minho who tended to look away everytime their gazes met. That look was different, Minho was different. Stronger, fiercer. "I can't follow you anywhere you go without you talking to me." Even if Jisung knew Minho was referring to nothing more than his unexpected run, it did feel as if those words could easily fit into another situation they had been aware of in the past. Maybe that was why Jisung paused, almost dramatically, and Minho immediately left the grip on his arm when he noticed Jisung's discomfort. "I mean... what is going on? Just... tell me." Minho clarified, asking for explanations.

Jisung quickly recovered from his initial disorientation and proceeded to speak: "Have you heard the news? Somebody is seemingly stealing pasta boxes from the kitchens, that's why we cannot eat it anymore on Fridays." He made Minho notice. The latter nodded, still confused. "So, somebody is stealing, but nobody knows who's stealing and considering this." Jisung said pointing at the pasta he had in his hand. "I think it's him: the librarian. And that's bad 'cause they come in stocks and I am sure he is selling those when on the cover it's clearly written: do not sell separately. It's a crime, Minho! We're gonna catch him!" Said so, Jisung decided to continue with his mission, but he stopped when he sensed that Minho wasn't walking behind him. Then Jisung heard a laugh Minho was trying to suffocate in order to respect the library's rules. He turned around and he saw Minho really trying to hold his laughter back. "What? Why are you laughing?" Jisung got instinctively upset.

"You think the librarian is a thief." Minho raised his eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Because of that piece of pasta you found."

"It's uncooked pasta, Minho! Not a coincidence! I can show you!" Jisung tried to convince him that wasn't crazy at all and that the man was probably guilty. "Fine." Minho surrendered with a smile. "Show me that you're right, officer." And Jisung's heart stopped for a moment when Minho's hand rested on his back. A few seconds, Minho had his hand on Jisung's back just to make the latter move, but that simple gesture caused a thrill inside Jisung's mind. He missed Minho. He had missed Minho, he was still missing him. His soft smile, how he never bought any of his stupid things, but still he never stepped back when Jisung proposed something which could seem foolish. How his eyes were wandering on his figure, making Jisung feel all dizzy and excited. His mere presence was something Jisung had been craving for so long, but he had never had the courage to admit it. He was still thinking he couldn't do this. He was still thinking he had to let Minho live his life without burdens and since Jisung did identify himself as a poisonous burden, he was still thinking he couldn't give up. Even if he needed Minho, that didn't mean Minho needed him.

"This is it." The older stated. "The librarian's office. And that's the emergency door. What I see is nothing." 

"This is insane. I trust my guts and I'm sure he has to do something with it. I've never trusted the guy." Jisung kept defending his intuition.

"You don't even frequent the library, Jisung."

"And maybe that's why! What if we break into his office?" He suggested way too seriously.

"What the hell?" Minho reacted as Jisung expected. "Min, calm down! I mean, if somebody sees us we could just pretend..." Then the brightest ray of sunshine blinded Jisung's sight for a very significant minute. The emergency door had been opened and all Jisung could hear was an indistinct chat between two adult men and then he saw it. When his eyes, his guide inside the material world of senses, seemed to work again, he saw it: a package of pasta in all its glory. Then he saw something which corroborated his theory, leaving behind any sort of doubts: cash. A picture. He had to take a picture. He took the phone he had in his pocket and he opened the camera. Just a quick photo to demonstrate everyone, who was making money on such an honest university, taking advantage of the service it was offering so kindly. So he took it. He took the picture. Thank God his brain worked well even under pressure, too bad he had forgotten the flashlight on. As soon as that beam of light reached the old librarian, busy with his whole pasta trafficking, Minho gave Jisung the scariest look he had ever given to him in years. The flashlight on. Why did he forget the flashlight on?

"What are you two doing here? Give me that phone, you stinky bastard!" The man had screamed letting his money fall on the ground. 

"Jisung, what are we gonna do now? Are you out of your mind? Taking a picture?" Minho whispered while the criminal was coming for them.

"It's for proofs! Did you see? I wasn't going nuts!" Jisung said as his adrenaline was making his body tremble. So, while the librarian was asking his costumer to gently wait for him, Jisung added: "Anyway it's now."

"What?" Minho asked.

"It's now, Minho. It's when we run."

"Fuck, Jisung!" Minho cussed, and in a matter of seconds they were both running along those same bookshelves, trying to escape the library as soon as they could and to outrun the old man.

"Why do we always end up running?" Minho said, breathless, as they were reaching the exit. Jisung laughed. He didn't know why, but he laughed. It wasn't an hysterical laugh or a mocking one, he laughed because he was simply feeling... happy. They kept going, even after being out of the library. Soon, the college front doors became their main target. They needed to get out. Jisung bumped into some teacher while he was running for his life, Minho almost made someone tragically fall down the stairs. At some point, both of them crashed into a poor freshman who was just trying to put his notes into his bag, but he surprisingly failed as they swept him away. Minho shouted a not so heartfelt sorry at the guy and Jisung couldn't help, but laugh once again at his friend's uncaring behavior. "You're the worst!" He said and the older one punched him lightly on his shoulder. Alive. Jisung was feeling alive.

When they found themselves out of breath, trying to regain the strength they had lost during that insane and physically devastating marathon, finally far from the enemy, Jisung dared to look at Minho, breathing in and out, the hint of a smile still painting his face. He was beautiful, so naturally beautiful he hated himself for what he had done to him. And then Jisung looked away, when Minho noticed his persistent glance on him.

"So? What are you gonna do with that picture?" Minho broke the weird atmosphere which was building itself up inside Jisung's mind. "Are you gonna blackmail him or something?"

"I would never do such a thing." Jisung replied. "We're gonna make him fired. Easy as that."

"How?"

Jisung wanted to punch Minho's teeth. He was unable to keep his concentration if he was smiling at him like that, if he was smiling at him witch such a fondness for him Jisung thought Minho had lost. He couldn't smile at him, so brightly in such a heartwarming way. It wasn't fair, not after an entire month of nothing. He couldn't handle that. That's why Jisung took his time to answer to that, apparently, simple question, leaving Minho slightly confused. "The principal is gonna see these. Truth will come out. As I told you: he committed a crime." Jisung's voice came out overly loud and exaggerated while making the statement. 

"I'm sure they're gonna sentence him to life imprisonment." Minho mocked the younger ironically. 

"You were the one who had beef with him, just thank me and go."

"I had no beef with him. I just needed books for my exams, books that I didn't borrow anyway since you wanted to try the paparazzi life."

"C'mon! I promise you when he's jobless, the new librarian will give you everything you need with no restrictions at all." Jisung claimed.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Jisung." Minho said jokingly, but the bitter undertones couldn't be ignored.

"Are you hungry?" Jisung said, he felt the urge to speak as if he had to, in order to make that subtle bubble of uneas, which was starting to get in the way of their first real conversation after a long time, blow up and disappear. Minho nodded, caught out of guard by the unforeseen change of subject. "Nice!" Jisung continued.

"Nice? Why are you asking?" Minho laughed it off. Jisung didn't know how to answer that, he had made that question just to keep the weirdness out of their interaction away, he hadn't think clearly about what to say. He had to say something else and, unfortunately, his mouth had always worked faster than his brain: "You wanna grab something to eat?"

Minho had his eyes wide opened.

Normally, asking someone to go eat together didn't represent such a reckless and hasty proposal, normally, asking someone to hang out was actually fine. Although, Jisung realized it wasn't fine when he got reminded by Minho's reaction how things had turned with him, how inappropriate it was for him to ask such a thing, how they hadn't properly talked for a month and now he was there, in front of him, asking to grab a coffee or something as if he had never broken his trust and their friendship within. Jisung did wish an unidentified flying object could just land randomly in front of them both, with pink aliens coming out of that spaceship and kidnapping him so he would have never had to face the embarrassment and the consequences of his fatal mistake.

"You wanna... grab something to eat?" Minho repeated to check if he had gotten it right.

No UFO on sight. Jisung couldn't lie nor deny his words. So he decided to act like a naive fool.

"Ehm... yeah? We haven't talked in ages!" Jisung tried to shoot his shot, but that sentence only had Minho turn up his nose. "I mean... we should catch up, if you want to, of course. And I can pay! Since you didn't get your books and, partly, it is my fault..."

"Partly?" Minho frowned.

"Mostly."

"Better."

"I could offer you something and then we could... talk? About... anything you want. Like the good old days." Jisung tried to make it up. "The old... old, old days."

Minho did smile.

A good sign.

"So? Opinions? Thoughts?" Jisung didn't know why he was doing it, even if he had made it clear to himself that he didn't want to interfere with Minho's life, even if he didn't want to cause him troubles anymore, somehow, the small chance of actually hanging out with him again and just talk, the chance of laying his eyes on him again, the chance of admiring his handsomeness without having to look away since he wasn't supposed to look in the first place, this small chance of getting Minho back, for a few hours, seemed more like a necessity than a desire.

"Jisung, I'd love to."

A choir.

Jisung was sure a choir had just started its singing. An angelic choir maybe. He would have loved to. Minho said he would have loved to. Jisung, encouraged by the missed rejection, was about to reply to tell him where they could head to, but his enthusiasm died down as soon as he saw his friend waving at someone.

"Wha-what... what are you..." Jisung stuttered, looking around.

"Jisung." Minho had his attention on him again. "I'd love to. But... I can't. I mean, not now." He barely explained, the last words pronounced in such a speed, it looked like he felt nervous about the real reason behind his refusal. Jisung didn't understand.

"But... whom are you waving at?" Jisung looked around again, trying to identify the subject matter.

"I have a date."

A date? A date hadn't been contemplated at all.

"And... that's him." Minho clarified pointing at an extremely tall guy, leaning on the ugliest yellow car he had ever seen.

Jisung couldn't believe it. "He seems old." That had been the only thing he had found the might to say.

"He's not that old. He's twenty six." Minho corrected him.

"Not that old? He's basically a retired. Where did you find him? Nursing house?"

"Jisung, I'm basically twenty two."

"Yeah and he's almost thirty!"

"He's not!"

"Minho, I don't think..." Jisung suddenly went silent. He was doing it again. He was meddling in Minho's affairs. He couldn't do that. He couldn't intrude himself into his decisions like that. "He's cute." Then he said, already regretting how easily he had fallen into his old bad habits. But the older seemed to appreciate the effort of the last statement.

"He is." He agreed grinning shyly. 

He seemed happy. Happiness looked so good on him. Jisung couldn't ruin that. Minho felt better without him. An undeniable truth he could not ignore. Withholding the unquestionable reality that saw Minho being happier without him meant lying, it was so obvious that denying such a thing felt like denying the principles of gravity, it felt like questioning the importance of water for the mankind, it felt like claiming that the earth was flat and giraffes had short necks. Even if giraffes had had short necks once. Then it came the natural selection and the short neck giraffes had left their spots to the long neck ones, but, anyway, the point was: Minho didn't need him. He was nothing but an obstruction.

"I'm happy for you." Jisung said.

"He's an assistant professor. I don't take that class anymore obviously, but we met there. I wanted to tell you." Minho instantly replied, a shadow of guilt in his voice. "I did, but..."

"I get it, you don't owe me anything. I don't need explanations, really. I mean it." Jisung reassured him while a knife was proceeding to cut his cardiovascular muscle into tiny little cubes, with an efficiency and a precision five stars Michelin chefs could only dream of.

"I like him. It's just a fling for now, nothing too serious, but I like him." Minho said while his eyes were staring at the sidewalk, probably so they could avoid Jisung's ones.

"Still, I'm happy for you." And he wasn't lying, he was happy for Minho, he truly was.

"I think I gotta go." The other one announced as he eyed his romantic interest requesting his presence from the other side of the street. "He made a reservation for us somewhere kinda fancy, so. I must go."

"You said it was a fling."

"A fancy fling."

"A fancy fling with an ancient man. Watch out from the denture when you kiss him. It could get stuck into your mouth. It won't be pretty." Jisung couldn't help but make fun of him.

Minho made a fake outraged face, only to start laughing one second later. "It was nice, spending time with you again." He had said. "We... we really should eat together. Have a coffee or something. You know to... catch up on things."

"We should." Jisung smiled. They greeted each other and then he stood there, looking at him walking away, falling into the arms of a guy Jisung had never met before. He did see the man giving Minho an ambiguous kiss right on the corner of his lips. Just to make him deliciously and adorably embarrassed. The man also took him by his waist, leaning closer to whisper something into his ear. That was when Jisung looked away. It was too much. The cosiness, the intimacy.

Too much.

Jisung had lost his Minho.

A long time ago, and he could do nothing, nothing, to bring him back.

He had lost Minho.

And it was his fault. 

__________________

Acceptance came.

It took maybe too long, but after two months of denial and silent tears pouring into his pillow at night, Jisung accepted the irreversible turn his life had taken. Jisung had still a girlfriend, whom he didn't dislike spending time with, his relationship with Minho didn't come back to what it was before the whole storm, but Jisung could say they had been finally able to become friends again, maybe not that close, but still friends, and he wasn't haunted by the ghost of what his life could have been if he had been true to himself and the people he loved. Or at least, that was what he wanted to believe. The facade he had created for himself. He was reaching his goal, the goal he had cherished with such a passion since that night with his mother at the hospital. He was living a normal life as the most normal common and ordinary guy on earth. He had made it. There was no way he could compromise himself and what he had built so carefully, being attentive to every single detail. His strong fort was back, enhanced with a moat and a swamp crocodile having the time of its life, in there in order to defend Jisung's perfect creation. Minho didn't hate him anymore so all the embarrassment was gone, his parents were finally proud of him again, his mother seemed to get incredibly along with his girlfriend, so much that she had already given her the sun umbrella Jisung's grandmother had taken everywhere during her entire life and his father was so gleeful about his son finally having a real and stable adult relationship while studying for college, that he was always bragging about Jisung with his coworkers. His dad had never done that before. His dad had never smiled that much before. The equilibrium on planet earth had been established again, stars were aligned and the celestial bodies, gravitating and living alongside the eternal universe, were certainties just like Jisung's whole existence. No more doubts, no more leaps in the dark, no more wondering what would have happened next, his whole life had been forged into the pattern society had always wanted from him. Suddenly, Jisung had his entire future figured out. He was going to get a degree as soon as he had finished his studies, he was going to get married with the girl circumstances had chosen for him, he was going to get himself a job, a house, maybe children, so their parents could have had grandsons to show off to everyone around the neighborhood and the city. That was it. Surety, security, stability. Jisung didn't fear the future anymore since he already knew every aspect of it. So Jisung had done it, he had been the author of his perfectly normal life. An easy life, far from the difficulties of facing his real self. He wasn't afraid anymore. Maybe that was truly the best choice for him, the best one out of all the options. So why? Why did he feel so numb? Why was he constantly feeling as if time was incessantly moving on but he wasn't? Stuck and suffocated by forces he didn't understand. Why was he always feeling like he was living inside the body of a stranger? Why was he perceiving himself as nothing more than a spectator of his own life? He was wandering into the world, not really embodying the sense of it. He was drugged, intoxicated by the idea of something he thought he wanted, not brave enough to stand up for himself and finally starting to get out of that Truman show he had been living for years. But he didn't have the strength to elaborate on those feelings he had. So he was staying there, prisoner of the house of cards put together by none other than himself. He wasn't there anymore. Just the pale shadow of the person he was.

Until something happened.

Until he realized what he had missed for all this time.

Common beliefs want people to think that turning points in life are extraordinary, phenomenal, legendary occasions full of meaning, eventful moments filled with uniqueness and epicness. Turning points are perceived by the general public as remarkable and exceptional epiphanies such as taking a last minute flight in order to reach the love of their lives on the other side of the country, running after a train, moving out to a completely different state all by yourself with nothing but a few money and the desire to start over, adopting a coyote, flying away with a pelican, being bitten by a radioactive chihuahua. Brave, extreme and radical gestures and acts, this is what people see when society asks them to picture in their mind how a turning point should look like.

Jisung's epiphany came with a tin can.

A useless, futile, vain, meaningless tin can.

Of beer.

A light and breezy afternoon that Jisung was spending at Chan's. Surely not quite different from the usual, surely not impressive or special. Rays of sunlight were being filtered by the insanely unpretty green curtains that their older friend had bought and put on the windows of his living room in order to defend himself from the attacks of prying eyes. They all found it quite paranoid since Chan's windows faced a brick wall and the trash cans. Jisung was there, laying on his friend's carpet, because his parents had officially requested him to literally get out of the house, since people of the maintenance were coming to install a DJ set right in their lounge. An important event seemed to necessitate the presence of such a machine: Jisung's patents' anniversary. Twenty years together and they had decided to celebrate their successful marriage by renewing their vows and throwing a big party for the occasion. And that wasn't just a party. It was a social statement, a declaration of their appearance and status. The guests lists was filled with names Jisung had never heard of, his mother had made him pull weeds from the garden for three days since the gardener was unviable, but still, things had to be perfect. Everybody had to witness how rosy and bright their wedlock was, what a loving and flawless family they had created. His father told Jisung to invite all the friends he had and his girlfriend too. It wasn't a celebration, it was an exhibition, and Jisung and the people he loved were just part of the lineup. They all agreed, probably unaware of the fact that they were all props for a show, even Jisung himself was. So, his house being condemned, the boy was waiting for the day to pass by, talking about stupid things with his friends as they were surrounded by empty cans once filled with low alcohol content liquids.

"Somebody has to help me clean this mess." Chan stated as he had to basically swimming between drained bottles just to reach the armchair not so far away from the sofa.

"I can't." Changbin stated. "I'm dead." He claimed before shutting his eyes.

"C'mon! I'm tired of cleaning up by myself every damn time you think of my living room as a homeless shelter." Chan complained. Changbin didn't reply. A dead person stay dead after all.

"Okay, I'm done. This is the last time I welcome you in here."

"You already said that, like, four days ago, but here we are again." Seungmin laughed. He was laying down, resting his head on Minho's lap, Minho who was casually running his finger through his friend's hair. Just a friendly gesture inside a familiar picture of trust and closeness. Physical affection was the only thing Minho and him hadn't been able to restore in their new kind of friendship. Jisung looked the other way.

"So no one's gonna help me? For real?" Chan continued in a serious tone. Nobody moved. "Okay, this game is over." That had been the last thing he said before doing the absurd thing he did later. Chan threw himself on the sleepy Changbin and he shocked everyone by going for his friends' lips. As soon as Changbin sensed the heavy presence of Chan's body on him, he immediately opened his eyes, doing everything in his power in order to escape from the older's act of madness. "Chan? What the fuck?" Changbin screaming, trying to elude his kiss. Changbin fell off the couch, looking at his friend in a state of horror.

"Since you announced your death, I was trying to save you with my kiss, princess." Chan explained.

"I'm not dead!" Changbin stood up, walking backwards to put a distance between him and Chan.

"What did you say? You still need my kiss?" Chan got up from the sofa, getting closer to Changbin.

"Felix? You're not going to say anything?" Changbin requested his boyfriend's intervention. And yes, they officially got together in the end. Felix shrugged, softly laughing up his sleeve.

"Kiss him, Chan." He gave the man his permission and his blessing.

"What? Felix!" Changbin started his breakout, escaping Chan's apartment and running down the stairs to avoid his friend's disgusting lips.

"Perfect! So next time you won't refuse to give me your help with the cleaning!" Chan proclaimed and then he proceeded to chase after his old friend.

"Guys, let's clean this up." Seungmin said and in a few minutes two bags were full of empty cans they had picked up one by one. "Felix, can you help me taking this trash outside?" Seungmin asked, handing those two bags by himself. The freckled boy nodded and in a bit, both of them were out of the apartment and when they closed the door behind their backs, Jisung realized he wasn't alone. Minho was there too, but no panic was allowed. That was okay. Jisung was completely over it.

"Chan didn't have to clean up this time." Minho noticed, looking around the now immaculate living room. Jisung nodded and he was about to reply with something vaguely funny and that was when it happened. That was the moment in which everything started to change, for real and for good. A tin can, a vacant container of beer left on the floor, unseen. One step was all it took for Jisung to slip on it and tragically fall. In movies, Minho would have caught him into his arms, in reality Jisung crashed on the way too hard parquet as Minho screamed out of surprise, witnessing Jisung almost breaking his sacrum. Jisung felt the unbearable impact of his lower back violently reaching the floor through his entire body and his spine.

"Jisung, are you okay?" Minho threw himself to the ground too, sitting by Jisung's side whose bones were still hurting.

"I think we forgot one can." Jisung stated gritting his teeth, holding back the pain to not scare Minho too much.

"Are you hurt?" Minho kept asking.

"What? No. It's nothing, I'm fine, look, I'm gonna stand up right..." Jisung tried, but he aborted the mission when he came to the conclusion that, no, he couldn't stand up.

"Wait. I'm gonna get some ice." Minho suddenly disappeared from Jisung's sight.

"Ice? No! Minho, I swear! I don't need that! I can't do that! I can't freeze my butt on purpose!" Jisung whined from the floor.

"Shut up, Jisung." He heard Minho say as he was looking for some ice inside Chan's fridge. Ice on his butt, damn. Worst day of his life. "Here you are." Minho handed him the ice.

"I can't. It's too cold, I..."

Minho loudly snorted. "What are you doing? You can't do that!" Jisung tried to resist while Minho was deliberately attempting to slide the ice under Jisung's lower back, then succeeding. "It's cold." Jisung cried out loud when he felt how frosty that was.

"It's ice. It's supposed to be icy." Minho shut him down.

"Whatever." Jisung grumpily mumbled. But then he started feeling the good effects of it and it was clearly visible through the expression his face was making. "Better?" Minho asked.

"Yeah." Jisung laughed. "Way better."

"I think it was mine." Minho worded.

"What? What was yours?"

"The empty can you slipped on. I vaguely remember I drank from it." Minho confessed.

"So you're guilty of attempted murder!" Jisung faked a shocked and devastated reaction.

"It wasn't planned though."

"I don't think so." The younger had his doubts. "God. It's so cold it feels like Santa Claus is coming out of my ass cheeks." Minho laughed at Jisung's weird sentence, he laughed too much probably, even if Jisung hadn't said anything that funny to justify his long lasting laughter. The beer circulating into his body, Jisung thought. That little level of alcohol inside his blood was making everything seem more hilarious than it actually was. So Jisung laughed too, not because he found himself outstandingly entertaining, just because Minho laughing was something so beautiful he couldn't help but do the same.

"My head is spinning. I can't do this." Minho took a deep breath after having laughed so much.

"You can't do what?" Jisung asked, his chest suddenly feeling lighter.

"I can't stand up."

"Don't do that then."

"Then, I'm gonna be late." Minho stated. His head dangerously pending towards Jisung's shoulder.

"Late for what? A date with your boyfriend?" Jisung said without even thinking about it. Petty. That sounded petty and jealous. "I mean, do you have a..." Jisung tried to word again, but Minho stopped him: "Nope, I have to go to the supermarket before it shuts down. I need bread, I guess."

"Oh. Ehm... yeah, so you should... stand up and..."

"He's not my boyfriend, I told you." Minho clarified. Jisung knew Minho did not consider the twenty six years old grandpa a real boyfriend, but his actions and the nature of their interactions were telling a different story. Jisung did remember when the man surprised Minho with a bunch of roses, each rose representing the days they had spent together since their relationship had started.

"Why not? He seems pretty fine." Jisung wasn't lying. The guy seemed seriously nice.

"I don't know." Minho exhaled. "I don't feel like we're there, yet."

"It's because you put too much tongue." Jisung joked.

"I do what?"

"You put too much tongue. When you kiss someone. It's like kissing a llama with all that saliva. And I know what I'm talking about. I kissed a llama once, you know." Jisung smirked.

"Take it back!" Minho, outraged, hit his shoulder.

"I won't." Jisung insisted.

"It's not true!" Minho defended himself from Jisung's false accusations.

"Yeah, it's not true. You put the right amount of tongue." Jisung conveyed him.

"Thank you."

"The real problem is: all those teeth when you suck a dick." Jisung kept testing Minho's patience.

"You did not." Minho said with a not so threatening tone.

"I did."

"My blow jobs may be a little teething, but at least I don't bite." Minho fought back with all he had.

"It happened once! Just once!" Jisung couldn't believe Minho had had the guts to bring up that accident again.

"I hadn't been able to feel my cock for a week." Minho accused him.

"I didn't do it on purpose! You pulled my hair too strong. It was instinct!"

"Yeah, I get that. You don't bite." Minho surrendered.

"Thank you." Jisung laughed it off. "Anyway I liked it."

"What?"

"When you used... your teeth, it was... refreshing." Jisung admitted pink flushing his face as he spoke. Fortunately, Minho didn't see it.

"Ask your girlfriend then. I mean... does she use teeth?" Minho suggested. 

His girlfriend. Right.

"Oh, ehm... I don't think I can ask her." Jisung replied hoping his embarrassment could not be detected.

"You cannot?" Minho was genuinely surprised.

"We... we don't do... things." Jisung confessed leaving Minho speechless.

"I thought you did. You seem pretty affectionate with one another."

"Yeah, we kinda are, but we cooled that part down."

"You don't wanna force her?" Minho asked.

"Yeah, let's say that." Jisung conveyed, confirming what Minho was thinking, because he couldn't tell him the truth. He couldn't tell him how that part of his body didn't seem to work anymore when he was with her. He couldn't tell him how wrong it felt to touch her that way and to let her touch him in such a way. The level of unease he felt every time her hands tried to undo his belt and the awkwardness which followed every time he refused. He couldn't tell Minho that he had been basically sexually inactive since their intercourse. It was too much.

"That's nice." Minho commented. "You're saving yourself for a greater moment."

"Well, I can't say I am succeeding at saving myself properly, then." Jisung said and it was obvious what he was implying at.

"True, I kinda noticed that." Minho accorded, hiding a smile. "Anyway, time to get that ice out of your butt."

"What? Now that I was getting used to it!" Jisung verbally protested, but he didn't make a resistance and he let Minho take the ice back.

"So? How do you feel now?"

"Mh, I think I feel better. Let me try it." Jisung saying while adjusting his sitting position. "Yeah, I can move my butt now." He claimed and in the exact moment in which he turned around, he found himself staring at Minho whose face moved suddenly so close to him, he felt his heart skipping a beat. Minho wasn't doing anything much, he had fallen silent all of a sudden, looking right into Jisung's eyes. "What?" Jisung asked out loud, his voice cracking as he spoke. Minho didn't reply.

Then Jisung's gaze, which couldn't handle Minho's intense stare, fell on the older's lips. His mind wondering what they would have tasted like after all that time. If they would have tasted the same or if they would have betrayed their owner's new partner's flavor.

Rage.

Suddenly Jisung felt rage, and jealousy, and possessiveness at the idea of another guy imprisoning those lips between his, taking Minho's perfectly shaped and soft lips as his hostage. Jisung never felt that way. He never thought about it, the realization had never crossed his mind before. And now he was feeling envious at the mere idea of someone else kissing Minho like he was used to. He swallowed dry, trying to push back that negativity, and he closed his eyes, unconsciously resting his forehead on Minho's one. Minho didn't flinch, nor he stepped back nor he pushed Jisung away. They were close, so close, and it had been so long they had been this close. Jisung was feeling Minho's breath tickling his face, Jisung was feeling his own heartbeat taking the highway to undiscovered lands. Close, so close, it would have been easy to cut that minimal distance and kiss him. Finally kissing him again. Finally breathing again. But none of them seemed to have the intention of making a move. Both of them enchanted, under the spell they had tried so hard to undo. It seemed like time had never passed, as if nothing had ever happened, as if it had always been the two of them and the two of them only. Jisung, whose eyes were still closed, sensed Minho's hand rubbing his cheek, caressing it slowly. That was when Jisung's brain went blank, and he went for it. He tried to kiss him. Minho didn't let him, but he did not stop caressing his face.

"I can't." Minho whispered, and one specific memory suddenly resurfaced to the minds. Then their foreheads were touching once again. "I can't." He worded one more time.

"He's not your boyfriend." Jisung desperately tried. A storm of mixed feelings going on inside him.

"But I can't, Jisung, and you know that."

Jisung knew it. He knew it too well. That was the reason why he had wanted Minho to hate him, that was the reason why he had wanted Minho to ignore him, why he didn't want his forgiveness. The temptation was too strong, but Jisung knew he couldn't do this to him. Not anymore. Minho gave him a kiss, a little one on the tip of his nose. Affection, pure affection. Then he stood up and he moved, headed to the front door, leaving Jisung there.

"Do you still like me?" A simple question came out of Jisung, who had completely cut off the connection between his rational and irrational emotions. 

Minho was hesitating. His hand on the doorknob stayed still. "Bye, Jisung." He said.

And he walked away. 

Jisung didn't chase after him. He didn't stand up, he didn't scream, he did make no heroic or hopeless romantic gestures. He didn't try to get his Minho back, because he knew there was no way he could have kept a promise. Minho deserved to be free, to be loved properly, and Jisung couldn't do that for him. Even if he wanted. Or at least, that was what he had always thought. The door unlocked again, Jisung heard it being opened by someone. He turned around to see who was the one. Maybe Minho? Maybe he was going to come back and tell Jisung that he still loved him? Too selfish, wishing for something like that to happen, when he couldn't offer anything more than kisses in the dark, was selfish, pure selfishness. But that wasn't Minho. He hadn't come back.

"Jisung, what was that?" That was Chan. Chan getting into his own apartment once he had dismissed his friends, after they had cleaned it all for him. Jisung looked at him, slightly confused by the worried tone he had used.

"What?" Jisung had replied, finally standing up.

"Did I just witness Minho almost crying down the stairs, or was I hallucinating?"

Crying? Minho almost crying? Oh, Jisung wished he was dead. He couldn't believe how much pain he was giving to him. Even when he was putting an effort in not doing so. So he let himself fall on his friend's couch. His mind a complete chaos and his sight starting to blur because of the tears he was trying to hold back. Minho was still hurting. And Jisung couldn't prevent that. Powerless, useless, harmful, that's how he was feeling, staring at some indistinct point in front of him. Chan immediately fell silent as he saw his friend on the verge of an emotional crisis. He sat next to him, Jisung eyed him putting his arm around his shoulder, but he wasn't really perceiving things. It suddenly felt like the whole world around him didn't even exist, so caught into a greater grief, a kind of suffering so strong it was making everything around Jisung disappear. All he could feel was pain, all he could hear was the sound of his sobbing throwing his body into the most uncontrollable convulsions he had ever had in years. All he could sense was desolation and the certainty of having no choice. No chances of getting rid of that insufferable heartache. Nothing, Jisung had nothing. Chan let him cry, he didn't try to make him stop, he just held him tight until Jisung had no tears left. He held him tight until Jisung could feel his intense embrace surrounding him, as his tears were stopping from falling down.

A shiver, along his spine. He was cold all of a sudden, or maybe it was just a reflection of the emptiness he was feeling inside. He sniffed, starting to sense the outside world again. Chan's arm was still around his shoulder and he was glad it was there. He looked up at him. A concerned expression on his face.

"So I wasn't hallucinating." He said, after having made sure that Jisung was far from the danger of collapse.

"I guess you weren't." Jisung replied, wiping his humid cheeks.

"Jisung, I'm not stupid. We're not stupid." Chan carefully started.

"What do you mean?" The younger asked.

"We're pretending as if nothing happened, but we all know what's the matter between you two. I mean, you argued right in front of us, so we got to know somehow. Maybe not in details. Maybe I don't have an exact and precise picture of what happened. Maybe I don't know it all, but... I want to ask you a question." Chan seemed serious now. Jisung nodded. "Do you like yourself?"

What kind of question was that? "Why are you asking?"

"It doesn't matter, just tell me: do you like yourself? Are you satisfied with the person that you are?" He insisted, but Jisung wasn't getting the point of that.

"I..." He tried to answer, but he was soon interrupted.

"No, nevermind. I don't need an answer. I'm gonna say it and that's it." Chan withdrew.

"Okay..."

"Listen. In this world we're alone. Even if we fight loneliness, even if solitude is perceived as an illness to cure, even if the human being is a social animal and we cannot live, we cannot survive, we cannot resist all by ourselves, even after that, we're alone. And I know that this is probably confusing, but let me finish on this one." Chan immediately shut down Jisung's doubts by asking him to wait for the end of the speech. "Every single one of us, on this earth, somehow, fears it. Every single one of us fears isolation. It's only natural and there's nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be part of something because, even if we are individuals, we cannot hide that we need confrontation, we need dialogue, we need discussion, we need those silly chatter, those laughs, even those rough arguments, we need to communicate, because we need other humans in order to feel human. So, there's nothing bad or egoistic in that. We all need acceptance from the people we are surrounded by. But even if we live as a community, even if everyone has a place in this society and and we cannot exist without one another, at the end of the day, we're all alone. Even if someone sleeps by your side, even if there's someone making the dinner for you, even if you have someone to spend the evening with, you're alone. And when you fall asleep, that's when you are alone with your mind and soul and nothing else, and nothing and no one can intrude inside yourself. It's just you. And even if you think you can let other people in, you simply cannot, 'cause that's you and you only."

"Chan, this's really a fascinating point of view, but..."

"I said let me finish, so shut up, thanks." Chan snapped. "Okay, what was I saying? Oh, yes. Well, at the end of the day, you're by yourself. During the day, your desire can be fulfilled by the presence of people in an environment that admires and accepts you and your persona, but what if your persona doesn't match your person? I watched you, Jisung. I watch all of you, and just like I said, I don't the details of this whole situation, but do you like what is in front of you? Do you like the person you see in the mirror? At some point, in life, everyone finds themselves without no one around. At some point you'll have just you and believe me when I say, that it's hard to keep going, it's hard to face the tougher times in life when you don't stand by yourself, by your real self. It's hard to breathe, to go on, when you don't have yourself. I know it's frightening the idea of being left out, I know it's devastating the realization that you don't really belong where you should belong. It's terrifying getting to know that there will be people, people you love to the core, people you love with all your heart, leaving you. That these people will abandon you when you're gonna show your true identity, your true personality, your true ideas, but are you willing to completely erase yourself for them? Are you willing to let the person inside of you die because you don't want to be abandoned? Are you willing to be the first one to give up on yourself? Could you bear with that? Could you bear with being the murderer of yourself? You don't need others Jisung. You need you. Only then, this will stop. Only then, things will seem a little bit easier. Even if you hurt, even if the world comes crashing down, you will still have you. And since you're gonna stay with yourself forever, you should differ those who love you and encourage you for being who you are from those who don't love you as a person, but love you as a trope in their show, a point in their scheme. You should love those who loves you, not those you wanna be loved by. 'Cause when the time comes, you won't fall, 'cause when the time comes, you will have learned you can count on you. This is your life, Jisung. Not mine, not the guy next door's one, not even God's one. It's yours, and you can't sacrifice it or you're gonna hurt yourself, or worse: you're gonna hurt those who truly care about you. Don't let yourself behind out of fear. Embrace who you are. Don't fight it, be it. And being alone will not be a threat anymore."

Then the epiphany.

Yes. Jisung feared isolation, Jisung feared abandonment, Jisung feared loneliness, but Jisung had never realized he was being the first one abandoning himself. Jisung had never realized he was being the architect of his own pain. The can he had slipped on, Minho, Chan's words. It all led to one single conclusion: he had always been moved by fear. Jisung didn't think he was going to stop being scared all of a sudden, Jisung didn't believe that motivational speech would have been the key. But probably that was a start.

Fear wasn't going to suddenly end, but Jisung could have challenged it. He didn't know how, he didn't know when, but in his heart he knew what he had to do. That heart he had tried to suffocate, that heart he had tried to stun and daze and tear down and destroy. Because he thought it was the best for him to not feel anything at all. Because he thought it was the best for him to stay in that fortress he had built around himself with so much attention. But he was freeing it now. He was freeing his heart, his mind, his soul. The imprisonment was over.

"I'm gonna smash that follow button." Jisung suddenly stood up, leaving Chan looking at him, weirded out because of the unexpected and unusual reaction. "You're gonna smash what? Jisung, did you hear me?"

"The follow button! I'm gonna follow my heart." Jisung said ecstatically. Then he left the room, energetically. As if he hadn't just cried for half an hour.

"The follow button." Chan repeated.

"I pull off a philosophical discourse with references to the Aristotle theories on the human nature and he says he's gonna smash the follow button." He sighed. "I'm done with these kids."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again, I congratulate the survivors and the brave ones who are still reading this mess. We're very close to the end, just one major event left. Sorry for the late updates, I truly hope you can enjoy it tho. I'd love and I hope to hear from you through comments and kudos, 'cause opinions, good or bad, are very important occasions for improvement! The second part will be shorter, I assure you, stay safe everyone and see you soon ^^


	5. Garden Sprinkler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boi this is the end, sorry for any mistake!

When Jisung woke up and opened his eyes that particular day, he didn't even know that was about to be the day. He hadn't planned it, he hadn't come up with a perfect strategy nor he had thought about it as soon as the sun had risen behind those artificial buildings, from the concrete, which had suffocated the natural state of things ages ago, to the above of the sky. Jisung had no idea that was going to happen, even if it was him the one who had made it happen. The day had come, his parents had all set up for the greatest party they had ever thrown since their wedding, when they were young and beautiful and suffered less from back pain and from the watching videos online with no headphones in public disease. It was six in the morning when his mother handed him the suit she had made him produce by a very well known tailor in town. Seemingly the best dogs tailor who happened to design human clothes too. It was six and a half in the morning when Jisung almost choked himself while trying to put on a tie, obviously failing. Seven when he heard a glass falling from the trembling hand of his father, excited as if that was his original wedding celebration, and inevitably being broken as he was walking down the stairs, hungry and wishful to eat something before that stressful day could start. Jisung, while chewing casually and boringly a slice of bread, noticed his mother running all around the house, giving the workers directions about where to position tables, centerpieces, flowers, adornments, weird plants he had never seen in his life, which, honestly speaking, wasn't actually that surprising since the only plants Jisung knew were the bushes in the courtyard and the marijuana ones he had seen in an effectively informative documentary once. Their house was full of scented candles in every single spot, as if there was a chance for the guests to end up inside the laundry room. Everything had to be perfect to the eye and to the senses. From the humble, but elegant, renewal of their marriage vows right in the Church they had pronounced those for the first time a long time ago; to the extraordinary bridal party attended by the whole neighborhood and half of the other two neighborhoods around theirs. And Jisung, their devoted and respectable son, didn't want to ruin that idyllic picture which seemed to have been painted by Claude Monet in flash and bones. Jisung didn't want to steal the thunder from his parents, not that day, but somehow, the unpredictable is, in fact, unpredictable. Jisung had thought lately, a lot. He had used his brain more than he was used to, he had made his brainiac mechanism work, like never before, after the beer can's illumination. The epiphany he had needed in order to finally get himself together, to finally understand the one thing he had to get rid of: fear. He had incredibly acknowledged himself as the one who was keeping on with inferring all that pain to his life, he knew, all of a sudden, that the only one who was keeping him away from the genuine and real existence he needed was no one but himself. Scared of the consequences, scared of his parents, scared of ghettoization and isolation, scared of the whispers and the unsaid words, Jisung was that one person who was preventing himself from truly living by wasting his time trying to hide himself underneath an ocean of lies. So, he wanted to cut those chains, unattach those strings, let his own person run free, let his lungs breathe air, legit and fresh one, after years and years spent inhaling poisonous gas from a cloud generated by the explosion and the disappearance of his authenticity and his freewill. Jisung didn't know exactly what to do, he had never been good at arranging things, he had never been an organized mind, he limited himself by acting when he felt it was rightful to act, without even analyzing or thinking about it. He was an impulsive guy who was now struggling with trying to destroy those handcuffs he had put on himself for no valid reason. His heart desired liberty, he just didn't know how. How could he earn freedom? Was the answer running away? Cutting those strings which tied him to his family, and escaping from his own home, not even explaining them why he was doing that, looking for a complete different place to live in and start a new life more truthful to himself? Or was the answer completely rejecting them, neglecting the ones who had given him birth, but at the same time admitting that even if he loved them, they were still part of the problem? Jisung thought the answer lied somewhere in between. And alongside the resolution of his own pain, he had to think about how to make amend for the suffering he had put on others, and by others he meant principally Minho. Minho had to know. Minho had to know that Jisung was now aware of the huge amount of pain he had caused him, that he knew now that his egotistical attitude, even if boosted by existential terror, crystalized by anxiety and apprehension, couldn't have been excused so easily, nor it could have been forgotten, or put aside as if Jisung hadn't played with his feelings all along. Jisung wanted Minho to know. Even if they were kind of friends again now, even if Minho had some sort of a boyfriend and he was probably over Jisung, even if Minho had forgiven him already. Jisung wanted him to know that he was sorry. That he wasn't sorry for himself only, but he was sorry for how inattentive and disrespectful he had been in Minho's regards. Jisung had never told him that, he had never given him proper apologies, nothing more than teary and sighed attempts, without even explaining that he truly regretted every single thing he had done to him. He had let it slip away, he had let his unjustified behavior be erased by the tidal wave without even taking the responsibility for it. Yes, Jisung was hurting, but he had no right to hurt Minho too. In conclusion, the plan was letting his parents know about how much they had influenced their son's psyche and apologizing to Minho once for all. Even though it was never the right time to do so, even though every day something seemed to paralyze Jisung and his will, even though it was just so hard to let it all go. That's why Jisung put his whole life changing programme on hold for that day. He was going to give his parents one last memory of what an impeccable appearance was like. That was his gift to them. He had held his breath for his entire life, he could have resisted another twenty four hours without oxygen. And he wore his suit, and he fixed his hair, and he welcomed his friends and the other guests with manly handshakes outside of the Church. And he didn't let his eyes wander on Minho's perfect silhouette, wrapped around that way too tight tuxedo and that white shirt, a little unbuttoned giving a clear view on his chest to whoever had dared to give a look. And he held his girlfriend's hand while his parents were at the altar, exchanging loving words and honorable high promises. And he made a spectacular actor out of himself on that stage, knowing that would have been the last act of the entire play. He clenched his teeth, he faked a few smiles, it was going to end, sooner than he could even expect.

"Jisung, for the love of God, where's your tie?"

The gathering was about to start.

The main dinner, more people were about to show up. The major event his parents had prepared with such an extreme attention for details, that nothing could escape the experienced and trained eye of his mother. Not a single cutlery misplaced, every pillow had been adjusted twice, every rose had its petals on, everything was where it was supposed to, but Jisung's tie, which simply wasn't there. He was talking to his friends, all of them hidden in the kitchen, the only room free from his mother's hysteria, and they were waiting for the celebration to start while making goliardic jokes about the questionable hat Jisung's aunt was wearing during the mass. They had never seen an emptied watermelon used as an accessory, but there was a first time for everyone, Jisung thought. He remembered Minho, sitting right next to him during the service, making him notice that strange choice of fashion whispering into his ear and he remembered his hand, gently and unconsciously rubbing against Jisung's hip because of the inevitable proximity. Even with his girlfriend sitting on his left, Jisung couldn't hide the excitement he had felt just because of the sensational perception of Minho's breath tickling his skin as he was speaking so close to him. That was why Minho had to speak twice, before Jisung could actually get rid of those electric thrills he was sensing inside his body and look at the bizarre fruit his old relative had chosen for the occasion. Minho smiled, when he noticed how affected Jisung still was around him, but he didn't mention it later. They had both moved on. Anyway, it was when they were all making their comments about that biodegradable piece of clothing, that Jisung's mother stormed in, reminding him that he was still living under her roof. Jisung rolled his eyes at her question.

"I didn't want to put it on, mom. So I didn't put it on." Jisung explained. "It's suffocating."

"It comes with the suit! I didn't mind this morning, 'cause it was a more intimate moment, less people, but now I want you to wear it, the other guests will be here in less than an hour! Look at your friends! They are all wearing a tie!" His mother pointed out. "By the way, you all look handsome, I'm sure the right girls are just waiting for you somewhere out there."

Felix almost choke on his saliva and Jisung heard Changbin trying not to laugh.

"C'mon, Jisung! Go upstairs and wear the tie! And where is your girlfriend?" She asked all agitated. "Oh, no, wait, I see her. She seems to get along with your cousins, she's already family. Isn't it good?" She winked at her son and then she left. That was when the laughter parade started.

"The perfect girl?" Felix asked while Changbin was finally freeing his uncontrollable laugh.

"I thought she didn't know about you, not everyone." Minho stated.

"That comment was so heteronormative, I was about to throw up." Chan said pretending to be offended.

"But you're straight, Chan." Seungmin made him notice. "Until proven guilty." Chan replied and they all laughed about it.

"It's your business, guys. So I never told her. Nor my dad." Jisung confessed. "Is that a problem?" He was concerned.

"Not at all." Changbin reassured him. "That means I won't eat Felix's face on the dance floor which is your living room now."

"Who said I wanted to kiss you." Felix ironically said, but he gave Changbin a small peck when he started pouting because of his comment. Unexpectedly Changbin, who wasn't satisfied with that blunt encounter of lips, dragged Felix into a more passionate and disgustingly noisy kiss for all of those present to witness. "Guys! It's still my kitchen!" Jisung stopped that liplock before it could escalate right in front of his eyes.

"Yeah, right, we're sorry." Felix's cheeks were burning in red after being called out and Jisung could swear he had heard Changbin giving him a smack somewhere along his south area after that, but he couldn't be sure, or maybe, he just didn't want to know. "Anyway, I gotta hang myself with a tie now, so, if you all excuse me." Jisung announced before leaving the room himself. He was glad he had them. He was actually grateful he could consider those people his friends. It didn't matter what they had all been through, they were always going to understand each other, help each other, accept each other, nothing could separate them from one another and that was probably the most beautiful blessing Jisung had ever been lucky enough to receive. Even if he was faking it that day, even if he was pretending in front of his father, his mother, his girlfriend and his entire family, he was being his true self with them, but that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for him and it wasn't fair for them. As he was walking up the stairs, straight to his room, Jisung saw his girlfriend nicely chatting with his relatives with such a nonchalance he could not avoid to think about how strong her reaction would have been after their imminent breakup, even if she was being kept in the dark. Was she going to hate him? Was she going to take her revenge by ruining his public perception among their college colleagues? Were those college mates of his going to treat him differently after that? For the first time ever, Jisung could safely tell he didn't care. He didn't even know how that realization came, he had been so invested into what strangers thought of him for so long that he was now not caring all of a sudden. He was just tired, so tired of having lived his life as someone else that he couldn't wait for all this to end. It didn't matter if it was going to be harsh, if it was going to hurt, nothing could hurt more than being numb and completely unable to feel human emotions because of fear. He wanted this to be over. It didn't matter how or in which way. Staring at his petite figure inside the mirror of his bedroom, Jisung took that black tie his mother wanted him to wear and he relentlessly attempted to put it on the right way. He tried everything, he even watched a tutorial on YouTube, but his chances to actually succeed at tying his tie were so slim, they basically didn't exist at all. Multiple alarms started ringing inside his head as he heard guests coming in from downstairs. He gave a quick look at the clock on the wall: late, it was late. He was seriously considering showing up without it again, even if his mother had practically warned him to not do such a thing, not during the night of their exhibition. Jisung snorted out loud when he heard the bell ring once again, he was so close to smash his own head against the mirror which was reflecting his incapacity to wrap a useless and worthless piece of fabric around his neck. Why was it so hard? And how could the other guys make it? Jisung was so caught up in those incessant, but pointless, efforts, that he didn't even perceive the door opening behind his back.

"Are you really tying your tie as if you're tying your shoes?" Jisung was so surprised to hear that voice, he almost strangled himself while he was making a knot. "Jokes aside, your mom asked me to come and get you. More people are coming and she says that if you're not down there with them it will look like their son died of cancer or something. With all those photos of you in the living room, you know." Minho informed him obscenely leaning on the door frame as if he was an underwear model or something. Why was he so irresistibly attractive all of a sudden?

"I can't tie this fucking tie." Jisung snapped, throwing the cloth away, which was instantly grabbed by Minho before it could touch the ground. "Did you just catch that like a professional? Minho, what happened to you? Since when you're so athletic?" Jisung was impressed. Minho shrugged off: "Natural reflexes."

"I don't buy that."

"And I started exercising a little." Minho admitted.

"Oh, well, maybe that explains why you look so ho..." Jisung did bite his own tongue in order to avoid the catastrophe. Minho raised his eyebrow. Jisung immediately turned around, cutting off that embarrassing eye contact, focusing on his own reflection in the mirror. For someone who had played a role for his whole life, he wasn't being very good at concealing his instincts. Then, Jisung felt that same tie, he had thrown away a few minutes ago, rubbing against his skin as Minho was taking the initiative of winding it around his neck. So, Jisung had been forced to turn around again, facing Minho whose face was just a few inches away from his. He held his breath. "I look so?" Minho smirked while his hands were on Jisung's tie, solving the problem.

"Nevermind." Jisung swallowed dry. He was starting to feel a little bit dizzy inside his own room. "I could pull it off by myself by the way." He obviously lied.

"Yeah, sure." Minho mocked him, while finally tightening the knot he had made. "Here we are: Han Jisung with his tie. Was it that difficult?"

"Shut up." Jisung shushed him. He turned to the mirror again, his mother wasn't wrong: the entire outfit felt more complete. He looked good, he thought. Staring at his image trapped inside that magical and mystical glass, he thought that style kind of suited him. Admiring his own figure, his gaze happened to meet Minho's one, which was clearly roaming his best friend through the reflecting surface. When their eyes met, Jisung was convinced the older would have looked away, he had always done that in the past, but Minho didn't look away. When their eyes met, Minho kept looking. Not a single emotion could betray his face, just a weak, but unexpectedly warm, smile. "You're beautiful." He had said, so casually and with such an honesty, Jisung for a brief instant felt daggers twisting right into his chest. Beautiful, he had said, without hesitation, doubt, uncertainty. Beautiful, he had said, not even faltering, so fearless and bold and audacious. Minho was a hero, totally able to understand, recognize, admit, face and eventually get over his own feelings; Jisung was a coward, he hadn't even been able to tell him he looked really...

"Hot." Jisung voiced his thoughts. He realized he had said that out loud only when Minho started blinking in confusion. "Hot?" He had asked. Jisung had to come up with something. Or... be honest. 

"Yeah." Jisung affirmed. "Hot. I think you're hot."

"A compliment?" Minho's lips opened up to a gorgeous smile. "I can't even recall the last time I heard a compliment coming from your mouth." He was shining, he was sparkling. Minho was breathtakingly stunning.

"It happened though. Once. A few months ago, I guess." Jisung lightly attempted to knock Minho on his shoulder, but the latter prevented that from happen seizing his fist. "What? You're scared of my super strength?" Jisung questioned puzzled.

"What's up with you?" Minho worded letting the grasp on the younger's hand go.

"What's up with me? Why?" Jisung was perplexed.

"It's like... you're thinking." Minho tried to elaborate.

"Are you implying I don't usually think?" Jisung advanced the hypothesis.

Minho suddenly looked strangely in discomfort, almost nervous, as his distracting playing with his fingers was showing. "No, I mean... it feels like you're thinking about something lately."

"Define lately."

"Lately, like... a couple of weeks, since..." Minho paused, as if he was already regretting something he hadn't even said yet. Flashbacks of Chan telling Jisung Minho was on the verge of tears, coming out of his apartment, creeped inside his mind. So vividly he didn't even have to close his eyes and make an effort to have recollection of that particular event. "Since we had a moment." Minho finally breathed out sounding insecure and uncertain about his words. 

He was thinking about it too.

Jisung hadn't been the only one haunted by that memory, it seemed. "I mean, are you okay? Is everything alright?" Minho asked, worrisome filtering through his tone.

Jisung had been caught out of guard. He could have said it. Right there, right now, in his room, just Minho and him, he could have told what his mind was planning. He could have apologized, in the middle of his bedroom, his posters of random animals he loved when he was a child witnessing the entire scene. He could have told Minho he was thinking about coming out, finally and definitively. He could have opened up, saying sorry, telling him how deeply guilty he had felt and he was feeling for having ruined their relationship, for the damage he had caused, that he no longer wanted to play that game, that he didn't want to be scared anymore, that he was trying to embrace himself fully, that he was pursuing the moment, that he was just waiting for the right time to let it all go. He could have told Minho he had loved him, more than he had been able to show.

"It's..." Jisung wanted to talk, but all of a sudden he felt like spiders were infesting his throat not allowing him to speak. Jisung was sure he had the words, but somehow, he wasn't saying anything. Minho didn't pressure him, he stayed there, standing in front of him, his expression clearly concerned. Jisung didn't deserve him. He would have never deserved someone like him. Jisung tried again, taking a step closer to his friend and without even thinking about it, he held both of his hands. Minho didn't react at first, so they were now standing in the middle of Jisung's room with their hands tied. Minho, after realizing Jisung's gesture, looked up, his face shaken and confused. "You're right." Jisung said. "I'm thinking about something lately, but it's new and I don't know how to deal with it, I wish I'd known that before, when I was even younger, 'cause now it feels like I have to change everything I thought I knew, and..." Jisung stopped, panic was growing inside his body.

"Jisung, take a breath." Minho suggested, holding his hands stronger as if he was trying to transmit calmness and tranquillity through that mere touch. "Just take a breath." He whispered.

There were so many things Jisung wanted to tell him, yet, he was stuck. Minho had his eyes set on Jisung's ones. "Breathe." He said, and Jisung breathed. His head was spinning and he hated himself for how anxious he was being about it.

He exhaled.

"Minho, I..."

"Jisung? What is going on? Your mother is looking for you. Guests are coming and... oh. Someone's already here for the rescue, I see." Jisung's girlfriend broke inside his room without even knocking and she sent the deadliest look to the guy who was currently holding hands with his boyfriends. But Jisung didn't even notice, too disappointed by how he had wasted that potentially fundamental moment of truth. "Minho, that shirt truly suits you." She forced a smile.

"Yeah, sure." The older didn't even try to play along with her game. "See you downstairs, Jisung." He unlocked their fingers, he gave him a last painful smile and he left the room, not even recognizing Jisung's girlfriend's presence in there. He heard her muttering something to herself, but he wasn't really paying attention. He had lost his chance. "Anyway, Jisung, let's go! Your mom is waiting for us and guess what? She gave me your grandmother's cross necklace! Even if I'm not... Christian or anything, but she said something about your grandma being related to a vampire, and..."

"Not a vampire." Jisung corrected her no sense. "Her father was a mosquitoskeeper because her family thought mosquitos were vampires looking for redemption. That explains the cross she used to wear so she could stay beside the mosquitos during their therapy without being... you know... infected by the Devil or something."

"Oh! That's... very interesting!" She tried to hide her dismay with false enthusiasm. "We should go, by the way."

"Yeah, yeah, I guess so." Jisung agreed on following her down the stairs.

Distant chatter and laughter were overcrowding his house's living room. So many faces, Jisung asked himself how in the world his parents knew all those people. Jisung's girlfriend was quick to grab his arm as soon as they reached the living room, as if Jisung was nothing but a territory she had to mark in a war. Jisung looked around, hoping to find familiar faces which didn't include his relatives' ones, but his friends didn't seem to be there. Changbin, Jisung was sure Changbin had brought something to smoke, since he appeared to be a pot fan every now and then, even if Jisung told him not to, so he supposed they were all hiding somewhere, helping him getting away with it. Was Minho with them too? Did he reach them out after Jisung's missed chance to confess which had taken place just a few minutes earlier? Did he tell them? Or did he choose complicit silence? Jisung wanted to leave, reach his friends, swim away, out of that social ocean he was about to drown into. The grisp of the girl on his arm felt like chains, carrying him under the majestically depth of the sea. His eyes were frantically moving, analyzing every single feature on those strangers' faces hoping to find a life vest in someone he knew. He couldn't go on like this, he needed to do something, he thought he could have been able to ignore the constant malaise which was amplifying every negative emotion he was feeling, just for one more day, but, simply, he could not.

"Son!" The sound of a word he wasn't used to blown up the bubble of thoughts he had locked himself into. Those three letters had immediately caught Jisung's attention. Son. His father was calling him son. In front of other people. His father had never called him son, as if avoiding to do so could erase the essential blood relationship which tied both of them together. But now, Jisung's father's eyes were sparkling as he was waving at him, implicitly asking for Jisung to reach him. Son. Why was he acknowledging him only now? Jisung walked to his father who was successfully entertaining some men, friends of his, with his surely interesting stories. Jisung felt small, incredibly small, standing right beside him. Jisung had always been shorter than him, height was the nth thing they didn't share at all. His father put an arm around his shoulder, so suddenly that Jisung almost flinched. "Guys, this is my son and my pride Jisung. Jisung, these are my colleagues from work."

A lie.

If he hadn't sound so convincing, even those people around him who didn't have any idea of how things were in reality, would have known that was nothing but a lie. His father wasn't proud of him. He never was. Although, Jisung smiled and politely waved as those men wrapped in those consumed and outdated suits were introducing themselves as if Jisung could have been able to recollect their names later on. "He's in college right now, computer engineering." His father explained.

"Computer engineering? It sounds great!" A man said. "He could overthrow you one day and steal your company away from you. Have you ever thought about that, Jisung?"

Of course he did not. He hated his dad's job, he hated his major, he actually hated college, but obviously he couldn't confess that out loud. He didn't know how to reply, but his father had been quicker: "Steal? My company is his company, that's his future. It's written already." He was smiling, his father was smiling as he was pronouncing his son's death sentence. His future was written already. Too bad Jisung had no intention to read it.

"And this lady is...?"

Damn. His girlfriend, Jisung completely forgot about her presence in the picture. They were all staring at him, those men waiting for an answer, his girlfriend on his left anticipating to be officially introduced as such.

"She's Min Soo Ah." Jisung spoke eventually. "And she's my girlfriend." Not for long, he thought he would have wanted to add. Her face lit up, a radiant and beautiful smile coloring her expression. "Nice to meet you, all of you." She said, so excited at the idea of being finally part of the family. They talked. She told them about her major, her life, her dreams. They asked her where she came from and they were all so surprised and satisfied when she named them one of the most influential women of the business landscape who happened to be her mother. They loved her. Jisung's father loved her. But he didn't. He couldn't. Then she excused herself, going back to the kitchen to help Jisung's mother with something he didn't even understand. Then his father talked.

"She's lovely, isn't she?" And all of them nodded enthusiastically.

"Are you gonna marry her?"

An anvil fell from the ceiling and completely crashed and destroyed Jisung's slender body. He was tongue tied, his heart felt heavy inside his chest. Marrying her.

"Of course he's gonna marry her one day." His father anticipated him. "She will make an incredible wife and life companion for him. My son is finally a man. A good one." He tightened the grip on Jisung's shoulder, he had never seen him this happy. But Jisung was shaking, he was faltering at the mere thought of marrying someone he didn't love at all. Marriage, the family business, maybe children and an existence spent in a way Jisung had never wished for himself. It seemed so wrong. It was wrong. He couldn't fake enthusiasm, he couldn't pretend he was fine. "Jisung, are you okay?" One of his dad's colleague said then. He felt the urge to throw up. "You're not talking much."

"It's..." Jisung tried, his head spinning, his heart beating faster, attending a mad race on its own. "Maybe I drank a little bit too much. Excuse me." And he walked away, as soon as possible, hearing the echo of his father's friends laughing. "He took that alcohol tolerance from you, man. What a disgrace."

Except that Jisung hadn't had a single drink.

He was wandering around his own house. Sliding through unknown people, holding back the tears. He had persuaded himself into thinking he could have easily pressed pause, he got himself into thinking that he could have without any difficulty separate things, that he could have been safe in that lie just for another day. That he had seen and heard everything and he could have handled one day, one single day, pretending. He had overrated his own acting skills and underestimated the incredible amount of potentially devastating emotions he had recently unburdened from the meanders inside himself. He couldn't take it anymore. He was walking, away from that living room which was giving him a preview of what his life was going to look like if he was going to keep living surrounded by mendacity. A golden, dazzling and shining cage which was about to swallow him up alive. A life built on a version of himself he wanted to get rid of. He had had enough. He was still walking, trying to regain strength and energies. He didn't know where he was going. Walking almost automatically and unconsciously, he found himself two steps away from the bathroom door. Then a couple of noises came across his ears. Voices. He could tell whose those voices were. Sloppy pecks on the lips, trailing kisses along someone's neck. Dull sounds, whispered words. Careless snickers, lighthearted chuckles, Jisung percieved a desolation he never felt before. He was missing all this out. And for what?

"Changbin, stop." Jisung could hear Felix giggling, from outside the door which was barely closed. "What if somebody comes in?" He pointed out, but Changbin snorted as a sign of protest, not moving out from the younger's earlobe which he had claimed as his temporary home. He bit it, lightly, teasing his boyfriend so he could finally get a proper kiss rewarding his undying efforts. "Hey." Felix had probably denied him the prize. "I'm serious, what if someone comes in? You can't act like that."

"Act like what?" Changbin had asked in such a cocky manner, Jisung held himself back from slapping his own face.

"It's Jisung's parents' gathering. You cannot do..." A way too loud whine came out of Felix's mouth, preventing him from finishing his sentence.

"I cannot do what?" The older's amused tone was perfectly audible.

"This. You cannot do..." Felix's voice cracked as he was letting out a series of little and muffled moans. His freckled friend's heavy breaths and the sound of the wet kisses which were infesting not just the bathroom, but the entire hallway, clicked it for Jisung's mind and understood what was happening in there, he decided to turn around and go the further he could from there, and he did that, giving his friends' some privacy even if that was actually his house, but other words had been heard before he could leave: "I love you." Felix had breathed out, with such a facility Jisung couldn't believe it could be that easy. "I love you too." Changbin had said back, as if he had always loved him, as if doubts about it had never threatened his mind, not even once. And even when Jisung reached the living room again, those words were still haunting him, harassing his lucidity. Love, Changbin and Felix were talking about love.

Love.

Did Jisung know what love was?

Love.

Standing there, as people were taking sits, the dinner was about to start.

Love.

The great celebration his parents had wanted for themselves was happening at last.

Love.

He had to take a sit. He looked across the room. He saw the table he shared with his friends and his girlfriend. He just had to walk there.

Love.

"Jisung, are you okay? Have you seen a naked ghost or something?" Minho showed up. His soft smile warming his distressed heart.

"Yeah." Jisung nodded, smiling back at him.

"Let's go, then." He grabbed his wrist, leading him to the their sits.

Love.

Jisung knew what it was.

Minho.

_________________

"A toast, for the newlyweds!"

"But we married years ago." Jisung's mother was graciously laughing at her friend's suggestion, as if she hadn't told her son to prepare a speech for his parents' party.

"C'mon! We're recreating your wedding here, somebody has to do that!"

"May I?" Jisung proposed, standing up from his sit, all his friends staring at him as his mother and his father were lovingly looking at him. "Sure." Her mother's old schoolmate gave the microphone to him, grinning with joy.

Jisung had thought this through. He had come to the conclusion that ending was in fact inevitable. There was no such a thing as putting his life on hold. There was no such a thing as pushing his own feelings away for the wellbeing of others, potentially ruining some others' lives. A thrill of fear along his spine, but Jisung decided he didn't want to live in fear anymore. All eyes were on him. He had a chance. He had a chance to make this all end. He had the possibility to take his destiny back. Jisung had the chance to make amend, he couldn't waste it. He was scared, of course he was. Deep down, he just wanted to run away. He wasn't brave, he wasn't bold, but he wanted to live a life he could call his. So he switched on the microphone and he talked his mind, he talked his heart, he talked his truth, a truth he wanted to finally live.

"My parents met when they were just kids." Jisung started and he was sure he was already spotting tears in their guests' eyes. "They never were the high school sweethearts people expected them to be, the ones with those angsty backstories, full of teen pregnancies, fights, breakups and cheating and all that stuff, just to get back together in the end and being married with a happily ever after. My parents met when they were sixteen, they always tell me so. And they were friends first. They spent years and years into getting to know each other, years and years laughing together, studying together, escaping from school and responsibilities together, going to parties and long trips. All of this before realizing they were meant for one another. There was no space for existential crisis, desperate tears, it was actually easy. They trusted each other, they loved each other, and there's no pain in loving someone." Jisung exhaled and he looked around him. They were all hanging from his lips. So he continued. "And, as I was growing up, they showed me, every day, the meaning of loving someone. I grew up in this household knowing perfectly what love looks like. Sure, my parents have flaws, lots of them, even if they don't want me to say it out loud, but they gave me, as a child, as a teen, and now as an adult, the right picture of what love is. Thanks to their example, I have been able to tell it apart from other feelings I was experiencing through my life. I was able to tell if I was in love with someone, just looking up to them. And I was, I was in love." Jisung paused. He couldn't back out. Not anymore.

"I was in love, and I lived it. And love isn't what they want us to believe. They tell us that love is destruction, devastation, that love is selfish and desperate, but it's not. That's the corrupted image men gave to it to let us think we don't deserve happiness. Love is pure. Loving someone is simply beautiful. Being in love doesn't mean fearing to lose them, being in love means knowing that it doesn't matter what happens in the future, you have each other's back. I don't think love is pain, love is actually a lot of fun. I noticed that everytime my parents came home after a night out, singing tunes unknown to the mankind so off key I wondered if they were deaf. I noticed that when I came home after a night out, especially that one time I fell off the stairs because I was still laughing for a joke this person I spent the evening with cracked. I went to the hospital the day after, apparently I broke my own ankle. But that was okay, 'cause I was happy. I was in love."

"I don't remember that happening." His girlfriend said to herself. On the other hand, someone else sitting at that table was aggressively blinking in shock.

"They want us to describe love as this unbeatable tornado of feelings, as this unstoppable hurricane of despair, I used to describe it as such, just because I wasn't prepared, just because I tried to oppose it. That's when love becomes pain, when people attempt to fight against it. When people don't let it break in their lives. I made that mistake myself. I turned something as spectacular as love into an endless nightmare because I thought I couldn't do that, I thought I wasn't worthy. And I failed, I failed myself, and not only myself but also the person I loved, the person who loved me. I complicated things on my own, believing that was what the universe had decided for me. That's how you hurt. You hurt yourself, you hurt them. And that's not love. 'Cause love isn't this devilish monster, humans are. Love isn't our hearts beating faster, it is not tachycardia, it isn't this sensation of constant suffocation, love doesn't put you down. Love is being free, love is living your life to the fullest. Love is breathing. Love isn't a cage, it's not a prison. Love is an infinite land for us to discover. When we choose to love, we choose to breathe."

He was looking. He was looking at him. Jisung felt his eyes burning his skin. He was looking, but most importantly, he was listening. And Jisung wasn't shaking anymore. So he said it.

"When I choose to love him, I choose to breathe." 

Thunderous and ear splitting sounds of people gasping, plates falling on the floor, glasses breaking down, all that acoustic pollution reminded Jisung he did it.

"Him?" His girlfriend was screaming, shattering his eardrums at the same exact moment. "Jisung? Who's him?"

"Minho? Where are you going?" Jisung heard Chan saying while a chaos only comparable to the begging of times was being displayed right in front of his eyes.

Minho was walking away.

Jisung couldn't let him.

Ignoring the visible civil war going on inside his house, ignoring his father's calling his name in a mix of anger and surprise, ignoring his no longer girlfriend cries for an explanation, Jisung followed Minho outside. Storming out of the room, he finally didn't care anymore. He was free. For the first time in his life, Jisung was walking as a free man. No, Jisung was running as a free man.

"Minho! Minho wait!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. Minho was already in the courtyard. He didn't hear him. "Minho, please!" Jisung shouted again, that's when he stopped. He was able to reach him. He was shaking under Jisung's glance.

"Why are you running away?" Jisung could eventually ask.

"Why did you do that?" Minho replied with a question. "I thought you weren't out!"

"I wasn't!"

"Then why did you do that? Why now? Why in front of everyone? Oh my God. Jisung, I'm so sorry." Minho was facing a nervous breakdown right in front of him.

"Sorry? For what?" Jisung had his eyes wide open. The last thing he expected from him was an apology. "You did nothing. What are you sorry for?"

"Why did you do that?"

"'Cause I wanted to, why are you asking?"

Minho started walking in circles and Jisung genuinely thought he had led him crazy. "Minho?"

"Ji, I know how hard it is to come out. I didn't want you to! I didn't want you to come out like this. I'm... I don't know. This is a moment you will remember for the rest of your life. This is... life changing. Consequences are insane for the ones who do it without... thinking about it, without being one hundred percent sure. Jisung, I..." He wasn't even taking a breath.

"Minho, please, stop. I chose this. I was ready, I wanted to do it for myself. You have nothing to do with it. I swear." Jisung reassured him.

"So... you didn't feel forced because of me or anyone else, right?"

"Absolutely not."

"Fine, then." Minho seemed relieved. Then a silence fell until Minho himself broke it: "Anyway, was... was it about... me?" He asked carefully. 

Jisung nodded. "But, I mean, I know you have a boyfriend or something. I didn't do this to steal you away from him. I just wanted to tell the truth about myself, and you are part of my truth. It's not like I think it's so easy to get you back or..."

"I get it." Minho interrupted him.

He looked... disappointed?

"So you get it."

"Yeah."

"Cool."

"I think I'm going home. I don't wanna to be back in there, I don't want to be murdered by your girlfriend." Minho brushed it off. 

"Ex girlfriend." The younger corrected him. Minho laughed. "Better, I never liked her, you know."

"I know." Jisung acknowledged.

"Then... bye, Jisung. See you tomorrow I guess."

So he turned around. But as soon as he saw Minho reaching the gates of his house, he realized he was fooling himself believing he could let him go away like that. He had to go for it, he wasn't scared of rejection, he was more scared of not trying at all.

"Minho!" He called him. "I..."

Water.

Jisung had been interrupted by water.

Was it rain? An intense and torrential downpour hit him from head to toe. A few seconds, then it ended. It wasn't rain. His hair drenched, his suit wet to the core, himself soaked to the bone. Minho held back a scream. The sprinkler, Jisung had completely forgotten about the garden sprinkler. But Jisung, devastated by the water, didn't lose his spirit. Sodden and dripping, Jisung had no intention of stepping back.

"I love you!" He screamed. "And I want to show you. I want to let you know that I'm sorry, that I will do anything to prove you how regretting I am. I won't hurt you anymore. Give me another chance to love you, Minho. I was such an ass. I'm not gonna blow it this time. I promise."

"What did you just say?" Minho slowly walked back to him. They were now standing a few inches away from one another. Minho, a bit shaken, but dry, and Jisung, who didn't know if he was shivering because of the previous and unexpected cold shower or because of Minho's eyes set on him.

"I said: give me a chance." Jisung repeated as requested.

"No, before that."

"I'm an ass?"

Minho laughed.

"No, you said..."

"I love you." Jisung said it again. "I said: I love you." He let it out again. "Do you love me?"

And Minho kissed him.

He did. Minho did love him.

So Jisung didn't care when his parents refused to talk to him, he didn't care when the atmosphere inside that house had become so unbearable he was forced to move out. He didn't mind when his ex girlfriend told her parents Jisung died in a car accident just because she didn't want to let them know she had been dumped for a boy. Jisung didn't complain when Minho bought an hideous carpet for the apartment they were now sharing. Jisung didn't feel like a failure when he dropped out college. And when his mother cried, at the phone, begging him to come back home, he let tears shedding down his face. And when his father tried to convince him that living with Minho wasn't the right thing to do, he let himself being mad at him. And he laughed whenever his friends were around. Jisung was sensing an entire spectrum of emotions he had buried inside for so long he had seriously considered the idea of being just an empty shell.

He was living.

He was loving Minho.

He was breathing.

Jisung was finally breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end of this fanfiction which was weird af. When I started writing it I said to myself: this needs to be a one shot, something extremely short and quick, but then, almost 80k words happened. I wanna thank whoever read it until the end, whoever commented on it, whoever left kudos, I just wanna thank you all. I have other ideas in store, so I will probably comeback. Let me know if you enjoyed this fic, hoping you didn't hate it lmao. See you soon I guess, take care and stay safe! ^^


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